


A Labyrinthine Affair: The World of Taboo

by dbshawn



Category: Taboo (TV 2017)
Genre: Africa, Animisim, Ashantiland, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fanfiction, HoraceDelaney, JamesDelaney, London, Original Character(s), Sibling Incest, Taboo, Tom Hardy - Freeform, Violence, ZilphaDelaney
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-09-13 09:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbshawn/pseuds/dbshawn
Summary: The man who sauntered into the sanctuary was an apparition, a restless soul assuming flesh once again. But where had he been? And more importantly, what had he been? James Delaney may have returned to the city of London, but after ten years on the Mother Continent he was forever changed.





	1. A Newly Made Man

The ship docked near Erith, on the river Thames. A good distance inland from the North Sea. But still close enough to allow the Captain an easy maneuver regardless of the tides.

Moving slowly west, amidst the sloshy-slurpy sounds of the rowman's oar, was a dinghy, big enough for three adults. This one held two. The oar man, grizzled and bent, tirelessly swinging his arms in a circular motion, propelling the small boat towards the city. And He. Tall, erect, robed in a leather cover with accompanying hood.

Hazel eyes piercing the fog, focused on his destination. He held a kerosene lamp in his right hand and its fuzzy glow illuminated their way just for a few feet. This was his country of birth. The land from which he'd emanated. And yet he was returning a foreigner, skin marked with tribal tattoos, a strange tongue pulsing from his lips and a mind cracked open by spirits far beyond the bounds of Christianity.

As a boy, he'd heard voices. Those of the people around him and those of the creatures in nature. The people had called out to him, lamenting their stations in life, eager to find solace and relief from pain and betrayal, hopeful for a future freedom. Oftentimes he'd hide away in the forests a ways from his home. Because there were too many voices and so much need and nothing he could do to quell anyone's unease.

The calls of the creatures was just as confusing albeit a tad more comfortable. Animals sang to him of journeys above the skies and beneath the water. They reached out to him, not in need, but as an invitation, to taste the juice of the berry, to pierce the heart of the calf, to sip the crispness of the waters in the lake and cry unto the Creator in a language beyond words. They offered up a most sensory paradise. A world that teased the senses, roused the blood, perforated the staid Victorian soul and released a boundless ferocity instead. He could hear them and feel them and smell them. However, their ways still pushed against his own understanding.

Once he landed in Africa however, supposed home of savagery and devil worshipping heretics, he found himself. Imperceptible to notice at first, due to entrenchment with the East India Company. But slowly divulged month after month and year after year as he shed the propriety of England and its pious ambitions and set off to drench himself in the secrets and wiles of the Dark Continent. Africa had welcomed him and enveloped him. Not gently, or smoothly. But with a rigour befitting a teenager ready for initiation. Africa had cut him, pierced him, mangled him, soothed him, seduced him and fashioned him. Now he was newly made.

James Keziah Delaney.

He was a mystic, a traveler, a trader.

And he was home. At last. In London.

London. The monstrous, sullen behemoth, lay in the distance. The buildings and streets groaned beneath weeping grey clouds, drenching every available surface and every nimble human within reach. The city, a marker for progress, desire and dignified destruction. Teeming with masses eager to improve their station. Greed, avarice, desperation, piety, position and all manner of wealth. They were hungry. Their need seeping from open pores like a wound; whose cavity sought sustenance from every inch of available air.

He admired and despised the city. It seemed an inescapable pit from which none of them could ever truly be free.

As a boy, he'd been bound like the rest of them. Seemingly awaiting his fate. Now, he knew that freedom was not only a choice. It was a way of life. One could never shackle a spirit unbowed. He walked among the living but dwelt somewhere between worlds. And his soul shifted about determined to show obedience to none but him and his purpose.

He no longer cared if there was a God. He maneuvered through this realm, beneath whatever cover a Creator allowed, assured that he, admixture of man and creature, would be allowed the right to roam and stir and remain. Until such time as Mami Wata saw fit to plunge him deep within her waves and transform him once more.

"'Ow far will ye need to be going before ye dock Sir?"

The row man was frank and direct.

"Go as far as Woolwich. I can gather my steed and head into London from there."

James’ voice, deeper and more threatening in maturity, echoed out into the hazy distance.

He focused forward on the city. His mind stirred around everything he would return to. An impetuously violent father, now lying cold in a coroner's keep. His family home, assuredly in a mangled state of disrepair and disarray. A bevy of salivating lawyers and speculators hovering over his father's estate. Dark carrion covetous for meat. And Zilpha. His sister. Half-sister technically. But more than that to him in truth.

SHE: his lifeblood, his muse, his love. Ten years separated and still he could feel the pulse of her heartbeat. It was a clear as the water splattering against the slats of the dingy boat. She, whose loneliness and sorrow had called to him across the great ocean, above the maddening cries of his father; carried on tempestuous currents of air. She who was most certainly married and caring for a family and home, but wept in the recesses of her soul to reunite with him once again and become whole. She, who believed that their love was reason for her to be punished, diminished. Not yet understanding that the world was big enough, wide enough and rich enough to allow for the breadth of their feelings and desires.

He knew that they all lay before him. That they would challenge and test him. That they would only deepen his resolve. His ears rose to the sound of a New World, for new men, fashioned from the ashes of the Old.

He was in no hurry to speed up whatever lay in wait. He would move through each moment, each event with a wily patience and meticulous calm. There was plenty of business to deal with and plenty of people to meet, challenge and eventually carry away.

The row man found a flat patch of earth free of wooden docks against which to slow their dinghy. They bumped against the shore with a jolt.

James reached into his pockets, pulled out a solid gold coin and tossed it into the old man's lap.

"Thank ee sir. Thank ee very much! Indeed, this will carry me for another month or so!"

He didn't turn around.

He simply waved his left hand in acknowledgement of the gratitude and swiftly left, plunging his boots into soggy earth.

Half a miles walk and he could retrieve his steed and be about his business.

There were so many calling. So many to answer. And only one to whom he would truly return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can contact me here on my [tumblr](http://dbshawnblog.tumblr.com/)


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zilpha and James come face to face at Horace's funeral and the sparks of a love long gone are ignited.

They were standing at the gravesite. His Father's black coffin slowly lowered into the silent Earth. Family and acquaintances huddled 'round the hole, shivering from the chill. His only concern was HER. Zilpha. Sister from childhood, fragile and thin. Now taller, curvy and irresistible. Raven black hair pulled back revealing obsidian eyes. Eyes that had once cradled him, adored him, taken him all in. Now scanning the dank ground as the priest recited the familiar orison.

She spoke the words of the Lord's Prayer along with the other congregants. He wondered how well her God had comforted her in the vast expanse of their separation. Had He held her in the long nights? Had he wiped away her tears in the moments of loneliness and despair? Had he assured her they would meet again?

James had carved a place for himself in the world and yet he still found himself yearning. For connection? For love? Simply sex? He wasn't quite sure.

Yet, after all of this time, whatever it was that he wanted was embodied in her. Like a compass forever set to point North, his heart and his mind all turned towards her.

"Over my dead body will you ever have her." That's what his Father had said. Once he realized how close they had truly become. How Zilpha's desire to be with her brother crossed all of the boundaries of decency. Before Horace had thrown him out on the street with a satchel and no money. Before he erased him from his lips. Vowing to forget him forever.

Before it was all said and done, it was his Father who had called out for HIM on those cold lifeless shores of the Thames. It was he who had begged for forgiveness and comfort and help.

Now over that frigid form, James said the words and cast the spell.

" **Monsan mmra me. Mede me. Koma me. Nokware fie me."**

("Return to me! My love, my heart, my truest home.")

" _Several times I died, resurrected only by the will to feel your love again. In the water, beneath angry waves, amongst vengeful slaves, I wrestled back to consciousness to find you. Give yourself to me."_

He opened his small container of colored powder, dabbed his forefinger with several fragments, and ran a sharp, ruddy stain beneath his right eye.-

They thought he offered a final word of prayer in his irreverent language. A pagan offering to a Father he'd outright abandoned.

They were ignorant. They had no need to know the truth.

* * *

She'd summoned him at precisely one o'clock. The chapel was in a village just outside of the city. Overgrown grass and puffy dandelions, a lonesome grave site with the remnant of souls long gone, the air humming with the buzz of dragonflies. He arrived fifteen minutes early. Outside of his Father's funeral, this was the first time he'd willingly set foot in a house of worship. Cold, distant, totally remote from the pungently rich rites which he now called his own. This place felt lost to time.

He crossed the threshold, the echo of his boots against the stone floor swallowing up his thoughts.

He sat in the choir pew; a place he remembered from his youth, when Father had sought to punish him for refusing to read his scriptures. He carried no musical talents. At least none that could be appreciated by the Church of England. His music was one of atonal strident sounds and primal howls to milky moons. Not regimented harmonies adoring a prophet from Jerusalem. His strident noisemaking had been enough to never allow Horace to entertain that thought again. Instead of mentally torturous or passively rude, his punishments became more physically violent from there on out.

He had no idea what she wanted. He blocked any foresight into the matter from his conscious mind. He hoped that she'd chosen this moment, this sacred place, to tell him that she was tearing her bond with Thorne forever and choosing a life of love and adventure with him. His heart quickened at the deliciousness of the thought. To truly be together, beyond law and regimented life. To live wild and free and passionately blissful. With each other. Possibly with their son and new children. To sail to the New World, traveling by train then horse and carriage to Nootka. They could strip themselves of every stitch of propriety and return to the wild from which they'd both been conceived.

He took one deep breath when he heard a carriage approach.

Soon enough he heard the click of her heels on the floor and let the aroma of her floral perfume sooth his senses.

She was dressed in black, fully covered, with a cap hiding copious amounts of black thick hair beneath it. She seemed stern and uninvolved, but he could feel the way her breathing quickened at the sight of him. She came to the cross closest to where he sat, slid a slender hand down the rail of the pew and knelt deeply before it. How dutiful she was. Paying deference and penance at all times.

As she lowered herself to the floor and slowly rose, James imagined her lowering herself down on him, taking the full length of his cock inside her. He closed his eyes at the thought in a moment of sinful bliss.

When he opened his eyes, she was sitting in the pew directly across from him.

"You summoned me. I'm here now. What do you want?" His words and his tone were coarse. Beneath them were a raging river of lust ready to burst forth at her slightest invitation.

"I used to think we were the same person." She was looking towards the altar. Unaffected.

"We are," he assured her.

She turned towards him pointedly.

"We're not. I am a lady of London. Married. Established. You are a creature of the world. Following wanderlust and treasure. Now that we've buried that horrid vermin of a Father, our story is over."

She seemed as harsh and dismissive as he'd ever heard her. It made him want her even more.

"In fact…" She let her words trail off. She got up, walked over to him, raised her skirts, revealing nothing but long, limber legs, black panties and her dainty stockings. She straddled him and kissed him deeply; inviting his tongue inside her mouth, pressing against his lips, savoring the taste of all that they'd been to each other.

Her brazenness and coldness were too much for him to take. Eyes locked into hers, pounding of her heartbeat mimicking the pulse of his member, he placed his hands assuredly beneath her skirts, found her fragile panties and in one smooth move, ripped them apart so his hand could fondle her sex.

Her eyes were angry with shock. Her kiss became more aggressive. But she did not pull away.

She was wet, slippery even. He knew she wanted to cry out. But then the priest, in the rear quarters would hear them and know fully well what they were doing.

His mouth sought the soft skin of her neck. A place he'd cradled long ago. He licked her there before he began sucking the soft ivory flesh. The reintroduction to her smell made him dizzy. He wanted to suckle her breasts, but he wouldn't dare tear her dress. Not here. Instead he let his free hand roam over her chest until he felt the peak of a nipple beneath the fabric. It rose as he rubbed around it.

His other hand rubbed her pussy slowly and lightly until he found that engorged nob. She moaned and then covered her mouth with her left hand to diminish any other sounds that might leave her lips.

He rubbed her clit in circles and she couldn't help moving against his hand causing the most exquisite friction. He wanted her to cry out in defiance of morality and etiquette. She was his religion and his temple.

She took her hand from her mouth and began kissing him again. On his forehead, on his neck, on his nose and back to his willing mouth. He placed two fingers from his free hand into her mouth and she began sucking them vigorously. His dick was engorged already, pressing against the fabric of his pants and one of her legs. There would be time later to plunge deep inside of her. To satiate his own needs. But he had no concern for that now. Just to give her this small moment was enough to satisfy him.

He listened to her soft pants coming swifter together before he slipped two fingers inside her and began pushing in and out. Circling inside her walls, feeling the flesh tense and grip around him. He brought his thumb back to her clit teasing her with both sensations at once. In the stead of his covered member, he fucked her with his fingers, energy surging between their mouths, his fingers and his cock. Now she was gyrating back and forth, round and round. Moans still escaping. Breathing heavy. Pleasure uncontrollable.

His pointed stare was too much for her to handle. She buried her head against his neck and gave in to him. Shocked at how wet and ready she was for him. Tantalized by the solidity of his strong manly hands. His fingers flickered daring her to come and it wasn't long before her body began to spasm of its own accord. She held onto his shoulders firmly so she wouldn't fall back. For a moment she left the confines of this church and her and self-imposed cage. And she allowed herself to ride this wave of pleasure, the electricity surging speedily through her loins. Her juices flowed beyond her walls, rapidly onto his fingers and against his breeches. She bit down on his neck, feeling herself spill all around him. His pulse was rapid and she knew that he'd love nothing more than to take her on the stone floor. To let himself swim inside her and reunite with her once more. She kissed him one last time before he removed his hand from between her legs and sucked his fingers, tasting the sweetest parts of her.

She shivered. Tears threatened to fall over the lids of her long lashes. Panties torn and of no more use, she got up and moved back around to the pew. She was still panting, trying to control her breath and gain composure.

He never took his eyes away from her. How could he? He knew what she really wanted. And even why she kept herself from it. But there couldn't be a wall between them forever.

She remained there a moment. Head bowed as if in silent prayer.

She straightened her skirts and then let them fall effortlessly back into place.

"Now," she said resolutely, turning her head towards him, "I never want to see you again."

It was a lie, but a necessary one. If they were found out, she would be a social pariah. Unweclome. Unclean.

There was a slight sting in her words and the tone.

She turned her head back to the church doors and slowly strode towards them. Assuredly to an awaiting carriage.

James wiped what little of her that remained from around his mouth. He'd heard her lie. Her body spoke the truth.

"But we will see each other again. And you'll be mine before all is said and done"

He wiped one hand against his dark pants, took a look at his watch and headed out back to mount his steed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can contact me here on my [tumblr](http://dbshawnblog.tumblr.com/)


	3. In the Beginning – Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time there was a little boy who knew nothing of London and the life ahead…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've imagined how life began for Zilpha and James.
> 
>  
> 
> You can contact me here on my [tumblr](http://dbshawnblog.tumblr.com/)

In the beginning there was Mother and Father and James. Together but fractured; details too slippery for his mind to yet hold.

Mother, or Amma, as he called her, was a fairy to him. A caster of spells. She held pools of time in her deep dark eyes and loved to run free in the woods. Sometimes gathering ripe berries for them to eat, other times taking him to the bed of a nearby stream and removing their clothes so they could take a swim. There was no shame or impropriety between them. They were mother and son and what he knew of her body was comfort and nurturing and safety.

In the earliest days, they would speak in her native tongue and James would beg for stories of their people. At night, curling him in the ambit of her arms, she told him of her own family: mother, father, three sisters and three brothers. They'd lived close to a beach and every day they searched for oysters, swam in the ocean, fished and gathered water to take back to their village. Some nights she would relay stories of the creatures that haunted the forests far away in the other world. There were owls and hawks, bears and wolves; watching, waiting and eventually, hunting.

He hoped one day to be transformed. To go to sleep as a little boy and to awaken as a creature of the night. Flying, hunting, swimming beyond the terrain of mortals and plunging into the hidden world that lay just beyond the horizon.

Amma named him **_Qw'ayaci'ki_** ( **her Little Wolf** ) because of his penetrating eyes and purposeful stare; the way he could quietly stalk the creatures in their forest, feet pushing the fertile ground, not making a sound. As well as the way he would often curl up next to her, needing the sound of her own breathing to lull him into a deep sleep. These were the secrets they held tightly, together.

Da, or Father, on the other hand was stern and rigid. A tall and slender man with medium brown hair and a chiseled jaw, he didn't approve of anything wild and free. His was a world of logic, planning and rules. Rigid rules. Even his heavy footsteps seemed to be measured and precise. He demanded respect and obedience. And if there was no compliance there was certainly punishment. He was concerned with shipping and commerce and spent long days away in his offices. There were trade agreements and tracts of land and fortune to be discovered. James found no smiles, or cuddles or kisses in his domain. Only a stern regimen.

Their pieces didn't fit neatly, yet they belonged together. They were a family.

Before long Anna began rebelling. At first in back handed ways, then outwardly defiant. She refused to wear the clothes Horace bought her, preferring her own crudely make garments to the finery of colored silks and soft cottons. She began wearing her hair in two long braids on either side of her head and painting her face in strange colors. First coral and golds, then gold and blues and finally white with black highlights. At the sign of every full moon, she would strip down naked and wander outside to sing in her native tongue, thanking the Gods for fertility and harvest. Crying to see her home once again.

This wouldn't have been such a problem, except soon the neighbors knew. They whispered behind Horace's back as he attempted to live a normal life in the countryside. Her language was one thing. But tribal painting on her skin? Crude dress and savage customs?

She began cutting herself, mostly on her limbs. It seemed the oddest and most dangerous thing for a wife and lady to do. Was this some sacrifice she made to the spirits to whom she talked? Did she not care that her dresses were spotted with her blood, leaving her to look deranged and unfit? Wayward actions outweighed wayward words.

Initially, Horace decided to confine her to the grounds and then finally inside the house, but never to accompany him to dinners or musical concerts or any sort of respectable affairs. When she began cutting herself, becoming wilder in her behavior and refusing to acknowledge any rules of dignity, he banished her to her room. She became more rabid, more rebellious, painting her skin, the walls, drawing crude carvings into the mantel of the fireplace, screaming for hours on end.

Young James, was too young to understand what was happening or why. All he knew now was that Amma was locked in her room, away from him. He would call out for her, sing to her, stand outside her locked door speaking their private language, wanting and needing to be held by her. Some days she would answer. Many days she would not.

Finally, she was sent away to Bedlam. Believing that to simply be another town over the heath, James begged Da to see her; maybe bring her fresh flowers or a hot steaming soup and let him read to her from one of the rudimentary books Da gave him. But James was never allowed that visit.

Soon there was the hasty pack up of household things and a move to the London house. At that point and time, James had no idea about another house and he certainly had no idea about a London. What could that be? Another simple town down the Fleet River?

He would soon learn.

London was a city OF cities. Massive and threatening to swallow them whole.

Da brought him to the gloomy house on the foreshore of the Thames River, a wide, monstrous sea that curved its way through the landscape. The house, to James seemed to weep from its opaque windows. Three stories of rooms, whisperings of untold secrets, reached out to him from the road and he felt his heart skip. With Amma, there was light and sun and security. Now in this London, he could feel the chill of life locked carefully away and warmth withdrawn. His tiny heart ached in ways he couldn't properly explain.

Along with the house came staff. A young man named Brace who was his father's personal attendant and a host of cooks, grounds keepers, and maids to keep them properly fed, clothed and the house in decent working order. For the most part, James did as he was told, when he was told. They were staff but not family.

Then one stark morning, he met Her.

He had been bathed and dressed, instructed to come to the kitchen for breakfast and there she was. Slightly older and taller than him. But with a dark mass of hair and eyes that were strangely familiar.

Still enveloped in a cloud of sorrow and resistant to his new surroundings, young James could only stare at this girl standing in front of him in her dark and proper dress. She was taller, but not much older. She had long dark hair, reminiscent of his mother's large dark eyes, enveloped by long lashes, a slender nose and two rosy lips that could render her severe or inviting, depending upon her mood.

" _My mother_ was married to Father once. I guess this is your home now too." She held out a slender hand for him to shake.

"I don't care about you or your Mother. I don't even know who you are." His stomach toppled over upon itself at the thought of having any connections without Amma.

Not feeling slighted in the least, she moved towards the large table in the middle of the kitchen and sat down in front of one of two bowls of hot, creamy oatmeal. She reached for a spoon to dip into a larger bowl containing raisins and then finally grabbed a container filled with a rich amber liquid, which she poured atop the oatmeal generously. She looked up at James who was still standing in the same spot.

"I'm your sister silly. Well…half sister. Come and eat this oatmeal. It fills me up almost the whole day."

She smiled quickly at him and then turned to her bowl with resolute glee. James moved slowly to the table and sat across from her. He still felt awkward and out of place in this stuffy environment. He was more concerned about finding a wide, open place to play.

"You don't look anything like me. How can you be my sister?" His tone didn't hold disdain, only brunt truth, as he saw it.

Zilpha politely chewed and swallowed her hearty oatmeal, dabbed the edges of her mouth with the napkin in her lap and lifted her face towards James. Her eyes widened for a second, full of curiosity and a hint of wisdom far beyond her years.

"Just ‘cause you can’t see the connection, doesn't mean it's not there. You don't look like Father either, but I'm sure you belong to him."

She’d stunned him with a huge helping of logic and truth. He wanted to lash out and strike her on her delicate face. Instead he ate his oatmeal in a rigid silence.

Her name was Zilpha. And she lived her life separately yet amidst them in the house. Every day she would greet her governess for lessons in the living room. Some days were languages, others geography and the best days were learning to play piano and violin. Every so often she would receive visitors who would spoil her with gifts or take her away to spend time with an aunt and uncle or her beloved Nan, to a place called Kentish Town.

James, still too young to attend school himself, would sometimes watch her as she learned her piano scales or struggled to remember vocabulary words in Latin or to recite stanzas of poetry. Seeming to keep her focus on her instructor, she could feel him gazing at her from the hallway. Sometimes she would smile to herself at his naked curiosity. Other times she would smile at him and stick out her tongue.

Waiting for dinner to be prepared, or waking in the earliest morning hours, James began to wander the grounds, trying to catch dragonflies or find honeysuckle to sweetly chew. After a time, as he began to adjust, he and Zilpha would play hide and seek inside. Bouncing from floor to floor, searching for one another in crevices and hidden spaces. She began to teach him to read from her lesson books. He taught her Amma's names for the wind and the river and how if she sat very, very still she could sometimes hear them speak.

They shared a sliver of Da's severity in the ways they would stare at each other, peering into a shared daydream. And they both kept a large portion of their own mothers' wildness and unpredictability.

One night, Zilpha brought James into her room after dinner, curled up with him on her bed and read him a crudely constructed story in as much of a grown up voice as she could muster.

 _"Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away there lived a handsome king and his queen, in a beautiful stone castle, set upon a hill,"_ she began.

"Why did she leave me? Where did she go?," he asked with his head on her shoulder.

"Da sent her off to Bedlam. That's the place where sick people go."

She continued with the story.

_"They were loved by all of people in their realm and for a time life was peaceful and prosperous."_

"If she can just get well, she can come back, yes? I need her back very badly," there was a sorrow in his voice that she knew was beyond her capacity.

She lifted his head with two of her fingers and looked deep into his eyes.

"My mother was sick for a long time. Da kept her tucked away here before she scurried off to Heaven. So you see? You and I are alike. In so many ways."

He looked at her now and he could feel her own neatly burrowed pain. It was a dense mass in her chest and he could sense that she waited until late into the night to release it.

"I can't bring your Amma back. But I can read you a story every night. One where we can flee this place together. I promise." She smiled at him and kissed his forehead.

He didn't return her smile, but his eyes glimmered a bit before turning dark again. He put his head back on her shoulder as she continued to read. She wrapped one slender arm around him and drew him in closer.

Before long, Horace swept James away on a rainy Saturday, to a place in London that held no familiarity for him. They came upon a dank and desolate building, with bars set upon the outside of its windows. There was no way to hide the screams and shrieks that came from within. The somber air caused James to temporarily lose his breath. Brought to the immediate brink of tears, he wanted to leave this place. But Da firmly grabbed his hand and guided him to a small plot of grass on the building's south side.

There, crudely formed stone markers denoted the resting place of souls returned to their Maker. Having never seen a graveyard before, James still instinctively knew the meaning of this place. But it wasn't until Horace spoke that it all became morbidly palpable.

Horace stopped at a freshly hewn marker and James' breathing became labored and quick. He turned towards James with a stern face, the seemingly prepared words issuing forth from his lips, without emotion or change in tone.

"James. It's time you knew. Your Mother is no longer among the living. She is beyond our reach now and I have no desire for you to bother me with talk about her. Ever again."

Horace bent down to place a handful of yellow posies at the headstone's base, let go of James' chubby hand and walked back towards the carriage.

"Take your mourning in prayer to God, young man. I am finished with the matter."

His words icily cut through the spring mist. James stared at the headstone, reading his mother's name and feeling as if his heart was being sucked down into his belly.

**_Anna Delaney 1770-1795_ **

Outwardly he was stoic and silent. Inside, he was screaming into a frozen abyss, cracking swaths of fog with his aching lungs.

* * *

 

As James entered school, his life began to adhere to a more rigid schedule. He tucked the pain of losing Amma deep away within himself and initially, forced himself to fit into the barriers of Horace's rigidity. First, breakfast, then school lessons, then chores as Brace saw fit intermingled with playtime with Zilpha.

Where at first, he was fascinated with her life, as she accepted her continual grooming and lessons of etiquette and education, it was she who now became inquisitive about him. He had been at the London house for over a year and still he felt like a stranger to her.

Whereas her slender, pale body rendered her a child of air and light, James seemed to be made of earth and water. His brownish skin, betraying any of his English heritage only highlighted his dark wavy hair and amber eyes. He could move throughout the house with a frightening amount of stealth when he wished and he was one to absorb every detail around him; which floorboards creaked the loudest, the ways the scent of morning breakfast wafted up the stairs and through the hallways, the best position to feel the sun's warmth through the windows of their living room. He was naturally introspective, but when he stared at her, unashamedly, she could feel him wanting to take wing and fly high above, away from their home.

During the colder months, she would catch him staring out of their upstairs windows. Sometimes focused on the mighty river beyond them, sometimes pointedly at the vivid night sky and sometimes into a patch of wilderness that lay just beyond their property.

He always knew when she was watching him. He would turn his head ever so slightly at an angle to acknowledge her presence, but would never fully turn to face her. She knew he still mourned his mother, but she also knew that there was something about the wilderness that lived deep within him. Because she felt the pull as well. She had been chastised too many times for climbing fences and tree limbs and having a general rambunctiousness totally unbecoming of a young lady. How many skirts had she torn attempting to have adventures of her own?

She, like James, found their weekly trips to church service, too dutiful a task to bear. Father forced James to sing in the children's choir, probably as a way to wrestle the wildness from him. But it was of no use. James still climbed the stairs to wander out onto the tiles of the roof, he wandered too far into the patch of forest behind their house and he sang songs in a foreign tongue, late into the night. Not the makings of an obedient son.

One Sunday afternoon after church, Father left the house on unexpected business in the City. James and Zilpha excitedly rushed through their dinner of roast beef, boiled potatoes and steamed carrots, begging Brace and the other servants to let them play outside in Father's hopefully long absence.

"As long as you're back by dark Master Delaney. If you go missing with Miss Zilpha and I get any grief from the Master, there'll be wood for you to chop and walls for you to scrub when you return."

James was holding hands with Zilpha as he leapt down the front steps, heading toward the clearing.

"We bandits are bound to live outside the law Brace! Besides, I'm off to explore the world!"

He and Zilpha went trampling down into the gardens and then when Brace stepped away from the window, they pushed along a well-worn foot path, deeper into the forest beyond.

James let go of Zilpha's hand and moved forward in the lush bed of pines, tingling with an expectant urgency.

"James, slow down. I can't keep up!," Zilpha panted behind him. The wind was beating against them and the weight of her petticoat and her skirts wouldn't allow her to match his pace.

"Hurry up Zilpha. The forest is buzzing and the creatures are stirring. Can't you hear them?"

Zilpha could only hear the chirping of a few birds and the whistle of crickets, but she played along.

"Of course brother. I can hear everything."

They ran several yards down the path until it disappeared and became nothing but wild grass. Verdantly pungent, rising just above their young knees. More yards to go and they came to a small creek, bubbling with the crispness of fresh water. There were several trees around and beyond that a denser forest, full of oak and mahogany and birch trees reaching for the heavens. He'd found a place similar to the one where he and Amma used to roam.

James turned back to Zilpha who had now amassed a healthy glow of perspiration from her jaunt behind him.

"You see? Paradise. _And it's ours_." James was smiling widely at her, in spite of a snaggletooth that sat front and center in his mouth.

Zilpha grabbed her long thick ponytail, twisted it around itself and pinned it securely. She didn't need the weight of her hair hampering her in anyway.

"There's no cabin, no food, no place for me to hang my prettiest things…," she teased.

"But sister, there are trees and a stream and calm skies above."

He pointed to the forest beyond them.

"One day you’ll live here. In a large palace, like the one in your stories. You'll be like a queen with the finest dresses and servants to attend to your every command." He smiled widely at her, a rare occurrence. And she warmed to his vision.

Zilpha cocked her head deep in thought and then realized. Something was missing.

"And where will you live James?"

"By your side, of course. Every night, you can read me stories that I keep in my memory-chest til I can live them out in grand adventures across the sea!"

* * *

 

With financial troubles taking the forefront of his concerns, Horace was never happier than when Zilpha's grandmother sent for her for the entire summer. In her graciousness, she also asked if James would like to come. She had a spacious enough home and there were more than enough children living on her stretch of road to warrant his tagging along.

Horace happily packed their things. Two and a half months of summer would allow him time to focus completely on his shipping company, hopefully gaining inroads into Britain's trade agreements with India and the every looming tea trade in China. It would also allow him to freely entertain company at home without having to worry about what was and was not appropriate around the children.

He would rather have kept James for a while to begin learning parts of his business. But James had been so stubborn and unruly lately that he felt that one carefree summer would do him good. Maybe he would gain a few friends instead of spending all of his time playing with Zilpha.

He hired a carriage to take them the six miles north to Kentish Town where Zilpha's grandmother had lived since the death of her husband. While she would never be his favorite person, he was glad for her unorthodox approach to life in this one respect: his marriage to Zilpha's mother had occurred well into Zilpha's childhood. For a short time he was even technically a bigamist, until her untimely death from consumption. If she had been a vengeful and pious woman, his reputation would be far worse for the wear.

He packed the children and their belongings inside the carriage, gave the driver strict instructions (and a couple of gold coins) and sent them off. While Zilpha had made the trip a few times already, James was delighted to see the change from London's staid, concrete streets to the broad, open countryside. The streets widened as they left the city, following the Fleet River in a northerly direction.

The air suddenly became fresher, the grass more plentiful and eventually they began to see farm animals and watermills. A harried energy gave way to peace and resilience.

Zadie Carrington lived in a comfortable house atop a mild hill outside of Kentish Town. While a widower and supposedly alone, she kept a steady array of friends and family with her, as to accommodate her gregarious nature.

When the carriage approached she made sure to greet them along with two servants who handled the children's bags. Zilpha leapt from the carriage and ran to Zadie's awaiting arms.

"Come here sweet girl and let me get a good look at you!"

Zadie was tall and statuesque with copious locks of dark hair that she wore wildly around her shoulders. Although older in age, she still carried a sensuous beauty about her; one that was enhanced by her warm personality.

She turned to him intently and held out her arms for a hug.

"And you must be James. I've heard a good deal about you young man."

He approached her cautiously. Not certain of how to receive her. Sensing his hesitation, she gave him a quick hug and then bent down close.

"My Christian name is Miriam, but I saw fit to change that. You may call me Zadie or 'Nan', if you wish. You are most welcome here!" She kissed him sweetly on the cheek, turned to grab Zilpha's hand and then walked inside.

"Come let me show you both to your rooms and then I can turn you loose to play until we get some dinner ready, yes?"

"Yes please Nan," Zilpha said excitedly. She looked back at James and smiled widely. He felt a wave of ease wash over him. If she could make Zilpha beam this way, she had to be decent.

Life at Nan's was a glorious cacophony of sights, sounds and people. During the day she let her kittens and two dogs run rampant through the house. They were playful enough, hiding in closets, under beds and hovering in the kitchen to steal away treats that surreptitiously fell to the floor. Nan had two servants and hired help coming to work in her gardens, fix creaky floorboards, clean and reset windows and paint faded boards of wood around the house.

She fed them heartily; believing healthy appetites could encourage healthy bodies and minds. Zilpha, who sometimes found reasons to refuse food at home, now had a voracious appetite. In the morning, there was fresh scrambled eggs, bacon or sausage, toast, fresh oranges, apples, fresh scones and jam with clotted cream.

James usually ate only fruit in the morning, but some days he would indulge. He loved how Nan would smile at him asking about his previous night’s sleep and encourage him to explore her library of books.

She encouraged Zilpha and James to play outside, not wanting them to hurt themselves amidst the clutter inside. But she didn't mind if they ran through the house, discovering rooms and closets, exploring the attic or the cellar.

In the evenings Nan would host friends and neighbors, preparing large dinners. People would gather in her parlor after the meal to play music and sing or have delightful conversations. Nan knew musicians, politicians, farmers and commonfolk and against the etiquette held for women, she lived freely and openly. At her age, no one would truly contest.

There were plenty of quiet nights when she would remove her dresses, wear loose tops and slacks and smoke flavored cigarettes in the parlor while painting landscapes and human forms with rich colors in oil.

At other times, she reminisced about Zilpha's mother, Phoebe, even showing James her portrait as a young woman. Phoebe was raven-haired like Zilpha with kind, knowing eyes and a secretive smile. Zadie avoided talk of Horace, as she knew this would create discomfort. Instead she reminded James of how happy she was that life had brought him to her family. And every so often she would bring them after dinner treats: cookies or crumbcake or fresh ice cream made with milk taken from the local cows.

Because she loved them both openly and unashamedly, James came to love Nan as well. Not since Amma had he felt this kind of warmth enveloping him

On a balmy Saturday, as they were wont to do, James and Zilpha explored the field behind Nan’s small curated garden. Here in the countryside, there was not just copious amounts of space, but there were farm animals as well. Tan and white Ayrshire cows calmly grazing, beagles and sheepdogs roaming purposefully and even a few sheep, sheared down to their skin and frolicking in the summer sun. James found a broad oak tree, and quickly climbed it, stretching out on a low-hanging branch.

Zilpha stood at its base gingerly picking leaves from another branch.

“Sometimes I wish we could stay here with Nan forever.”

James was looking at her, trying to peak into her interior. The waning sun shone in his eyes in such a way that they seemed to glow for just a second.

“As much as I want to, Nan has a full life. And even a few men courting. We would only get in her way.”

James grunted and paused for a bit, deep in thought.

“Courting? You mean they want to marry her?”

James was concerned now. Zilpha swallowed a large gulp of dread down her throat, but she knew he felt it rise from her like mist from the river.

“I don’t know if she’ll ever consider it, seriously. But you see the way some of her visitors laugh with her, dance with her, kiss her sweetly on the lips. Would it be so horrible if she were to find someone?”

Now Zilpha looked up at him. She knew he loved Nan. Immensely. He’d even worked his way up to hugging her warmly and kissing her goodnight every evening.

“I don’t want to share Nan with anyone…but you!”

He was adorable in the way that he seemed to pout. He certainly didn’t pine for Da this way. Zilpha smiled at his ardor.

“One day even I’ll belong to someone and so will you. It’s what happens to us all, eventually.”

James sat up on the branch, stretched his arms, climbed down the tree with the smoothest swiftness and stood right before Zilpha.

“I don’t ever want to marry if it means I have to leave you.”

Zilpha touched his face. She almost wanted to laugh. There was a time when she had held as tightly to her childhood fantasies. But watching the adults around them, she was slowly beginning to see how little room life left for anyone’s fantasies to grow. Her own mother Phoebe desired to be a writer, but her grandfather insisted no woman could survive that way and insisted that she take a husband.

“James. Sweet James. I will never leave you, for even if we’re apart, we’ll meet in our dreams!”

He grabbed her tightly and hugged her, his breathing attuned to her hearbeat. She embraced him heartily, feeling certain that she’d temporarily eased his fears; he, perceptive of the expanding warmth within his chest, knowing that he could never leave her even if he tried.

 


	4. The Dark Continent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James washes ashore the coast of West Africa

**_The akomfo was brown as an almond, thin and muscular with rich, tawny eyes. He took James in, peering into his mind and deeper still into his soul, like a focused beam of light. 'I know where you come from, but who are you? What are you?'_ **

* * *

 

James was taken before the tribal chief who took one look at him and sent him to what was a council of some sorts. The wary men kept him away from the other villagers, hidden in a shanty, while they conferred with each other through whispers and menacing stares. They didn't trust him or understand him. They had good reason not to.

Finally they led him through a cleared path to a hut a slight bit away from the rest of the village, perched upon a small hill. It was surrounded by tiny figurines made from wood and grass, smelling of burning herbs and flowers, eerily quiet, except for a faint moaning coming from behind the hill. James knew that these spirits, whatever they were, were roaming the land, bound and confused. And then he immediately understood.

At a certain point, the men refused to proceed and James was left to enter the hut alone. Inside there was a kettle with boiling water and leaves set over a fire, made from a pit in the dirt. James could see a small bird, its fluttering wings thrashing as it rose and sank near the thatched roof. Atop a rickety wooden table in the back was a mélange of fresh ground berries and wildflowers, their smell sweet and soothing. But no one was there. He was alone. Curious, not frightened. Expectant yet resolute. He sat down against one of the walls, his shirt long gone and his black pants now having ripped in three different places. He thought of leaving to search for water, but he didn't know this place. So against that wall in the relative cool of a strange abode, he slept.

He awakened to someone's face directly in front of his own. A man. With ancient eyes but a much younger face. Small in stature with a mesmerizing stare.

The man uttered something James certainly couldn't understand. A question perhaps. What is your name? Where do you come from? What do you want from us?

James pointed to his chest and spoke slowly.

"I've been roaming this wilderness alone for days now. Didn't they tell you? I'm called Keziah. I have no papers with me."

"No papers," he repeated cautiously.

The tiny man ushered him to stand. Retrieved a knife from his pouch and violently cut away at James's long tattered breeches. Soon they fell shiftlessly on the ground. There was no question whether to also remove his undergarments. They had suffered the severity of the entire ordeal, including exposure to the elements and few chances to be rinsed out. He was glad to be free of them. His nakedness withstanding, the thing that stood out to him was the stark contrast of his olive tinged skin against the akomfo's dark brown complexion. He enjoyed feeling the open air flow all over him. This was how he'd wandered the forests, far beyond home and the local chapel. If possible, this is how he would wander all of Africa.

The old man grabbed what appeared to be a shell of some kind, dipped it into the boiling water, waited for a moment and then handed it to James. He dipped another shell into the boiling water and then held it to his lips. James hesitated and then braced himself as he boldly swallowed the scalding hot liquid. It initially stung his tissues going down and then pooled warmly in his chest before traversing out and down into his bloodstream.

* * *

 

Suddenly, James was walking alone through a forest covered in mist. He could hear the caw of crows and the hum of insects swarming all around him.

Eventually, he came to a clearing where this same man stood. A foot shorter than him, black, wiry and wise. His face, chest and arms were covered in a thick white clay and between his lips sat a long wooden pipe. As James approached, he sprinkled a powdery substance around them in a circular shape. James watched as he enclosed the circle and then tipped a fragment of flame onto the powder from his pipe. Reeds of low grass slowly succumbed to the fire until it surrounded them both.

 **"Oburoni fitaa. Me ma wo akwaaba.”** (Man from beyond the horizon. Welcome)."

"What do you want from me?" James asked coarsely.

"I should be asking you the very same thing…James. You've come a long way from home. For what purpose?"

James bristled as the man spoke his name. The man came closer and placed both of his hands on the sides of James' face.

"I do not know you. But soon I will."

**_A poorly manned Cornwallis, severely pierced by a sandbar unseen and full of cargo. Its destination a rum plantation in Antigua, courtesy of one Marcus Strange. Below deck, hysterical men and women, crying for release, as James nailed into the hull with a steady hand; people who had once been proud and free, now captured to serve the gluttonous appetites of an empire. In order to remain undetected by patrol ships in these International Waters they were now trapped below, soon to be rotting, jagged carcasses._ **

**_The ship slowly surrendered to the cumbrous depths and he calmly accepted his fate. It was then that Amma appeared, beautiful and calm, cradling him with a song she'd sang to him as a child. Her voice, clear, high and sweet was a comfort as the jagged waves overcame him. He welcomed this reunion, opening his body to swaths of water, expecting to slowly sink to the sea floor._ **

**_Then, he was abruptly above the waves._ **

**_The men had been fishing in a small dilapidated boat, hoping to make their daily catch, when they came upon him. His body, carried by the currents of the Atlantic, was gently bobbing up and down amidst tepid waves. They grabbed him, pulled him into the boat and turned him onto his stomach, waiting and watching._ **

**_Amma continued to hover around him, whispering to him to come home. She hugged him tightly, then pushed violently into his chest. In that moment, spasms jolted his gut as he purged himself onto the old rotting wood. Sea water and spit fell from his mouth as he was rocked back into consciousness. His lungs, aching for fresh air as he opened his eye and tried to recognize where he was. The men, dark and tall, were speaking to him, but he only recognized a few of their words. When they saw that he was calm, they helped him sit against the port of the tiny boat, giving him water to drink and a small patch of salt to lick, soothing his insides._ **

**_Once they reached shore, two of them remained with James and the small boat, while the other went into the small crowd of people, conversing quietly with many of the other men there. Finally, he returned with two very tall men, wearing dark red and brown robes wrapped tightly around their bodies, one with a large walking stick in his right hand. He gave the men several beads and cowries shells and a few fish from their daily catch. Then he led them to James and he and his cohorts made ready to transport their boat back to their nearby village. These new men held James by his arms and walked with him to their much larger boat docked near the banks of a very wide river just beyond the busy marketplace. Their boat held more rations, food, spices, gunpowder and cocoa. But there was plenty of room for James to lie down amongst heavy blankets and rest. He did not know these men or where they were carrying him but he was alive for now and he could figure out the rest when they arrived wherever it was they were headed._ **

**_They traveled for three and a half days along the Pra river, a tranquil and luscious blue water system, flowing through gentle plains at first and then dense rainforests. The current was gentle enough that James could gather himself and sit up against the side of the boat at times. His companions would talk and laugh with each other and offer up a bit of indecipherable conversation for him as well. They initially offered him small pieces of fresh bread and water to ingest. As James got stronger and his color improved, they gave him fresh fruit and even pieces of roasted fish with vegetables. James was mostly quiet, mumbling to himself every so often. They would stare at him in amazement and then return to their tasks or the skin of the water, marveling at the way the sun rays danced upon and below it._ **

**_Finally, they banked at the edge of the river and headed in a south easterly direction. By this time James had returned to himself, he was no longer pale and wan, and his appetite had greatly increased. His clothes, or the remnants of them, were torn and tattered, lazily hanging from his body, his hair and beard were unruly and he looked aptly like a wild man caught in a vast net. He had no concern for his appearance, he simply wanted a place to clean himself, rest and then formulate a plan. As they headed south, he chose to walk in the opposite direction. He would fend for himself._ **

When James awakened again he was back in the village, alone in a much larger hut. The intervals of silence were interrupted by the vibrant hum of insects all around.

"Prah tells me that you'll be here for a while," the chief's robust voice jarred him. "We will make provisions for you."

They'd sent him to the man who walked between worlds. A shaman.

* * *

They were in the village of Yasi, well within Ashantiland. James knew of this place because it all fell in the boundaries of the Gold Coast, a most coveted region of Africa for so many Europeans. He studied this region during his time with the East India. The people here didn't currently show evidence of such wealth, but gold was so prevalent in the land as to almost be nonexistent. In the back of his mind was the great slave market in the port of Cabinda; black men and women, with long lithe limbs and penetrating eyes. They had come in all shades of brown, some with skin that could only be described as espresso, some golden brown, like copper pence pieces, others the shade of maple or hickory wood.

When he traipsed away from London, Father and Zilpha, he'd imagined that he would make his way to India, the mighty enclave of their kingdom and have glorious adventures in the name of the Queen or the wealthiest Maharaja. Maybe his days would be spent performing heroic deeds, fighting local uprisings, rescuing royals captured in their palaces or finding treasure buried in the Earth.

Instead, his ship carried him westward and then to the south, skirting the western coast of Africa to push even farther south to Angola. There he met a mélange of Europeans, some mercenaries, some slave merchants, others who were adventure seekers or military men, stationed strategically to gain hold or maintain the Mother Country's exploits. He'd chosen to go the mercenary route, which was why several ex-East India men found him quite easily and offered him a handsome salary for an allotment of dark and sundry tasks.

Up to that point, he'd remained in Cabinda, gambling, fighting, drinking and spending nights in the whorehouse when he couldn't resist his urges any longer. During his drinking spells he longed for Zilpha, remembering the smell of her hyacinth perfume and the way her hair would begin to curly just after she washed it. He regretted not bringing her with him, but once he saw the chaos of the place, he knew he needed to be a bit more established.

There were a little over eighty people in the tribe. The chief, priests, elders, warriors, young women and small children all scattered throughout several huts in an open plain just outside of a rainforest. While he'd experienced the initial onslaught of heat in Cabinda, this humid, heavy wave was one that threatened to suffocate. It stealthily wrapped itself around him just as the sun rose to its zenith in the sky, spreading until he often felt he would be smothered under its weight. Thankfully, their proximity to the rainforest meant they were blessed with frequent rain showers during the day. They immediately showed him the path to river so he could inundate himself there when he became overwhelmed.

The chief, Kofi Addai, told the tribe about him, but informed James that he wouldn't be fully initiated until his first major hunt. In the meantime, he would spend an inordinate amount of time with the akomfo, Prah. Kofi didn't mention that some of the elders, sensing an additional presence with James, were worried that he'd brought a powerful **obayifo** (witch) to haunt and attack them.

* * *

 

This place, in the interior, was a pasticcio of new sounds, scents and scenery. Tall stalks of grass, some as high as wheat from the English countryside surrounded the village. The sun, a resolute orb in the sky, floated effortless and warmed his skin, inviting greedy blow flies to take a chance at stealing sanguine meal. Lying down, he couldn't see the wildlife but he could certainly hear. The trumpet calls of elephants anxiously awaiting members from their herd; the glaring calls of creatures gliding through the heavy air, assuredly to gather at a nearby water hole. And in the distance, the muted yet unmistakable roar of a lion. Claiming his meal? Solidifying territory? He invited these sounds, even savored them.

With a newly shaven head, clothed in dark burgundy robes, James spent his initial days with Prah, learning phrases in Twa, slowly enough until he could name the sky, the river, the sun, the moon and the stars. Prah walked him through the realm of **Asaase Yaa** (Mother Nature), showing him their places for praying, for celebration, their paths to the river and their paths leading to their fetish grove (a special altar where they made offerings to their god for the souls of the dead).

In the meantime, Kofi introduced him to a young woman named Akuba. She was young, nubile and alone. The chief gave her to James, to be his consort for as long as he called Yasi home. And he appreciated the gesture. He hadn't interacted with a woman in half a year, accustomed to the solitude. Now he felt some companionship, however fraught and distant, would ground him. He was still learning Twi, adjusting to the buzzing sounds of the consonants and vowels against the roof of his mouth. So he could only hold rudimentary conversations with her and the other tribesmen. No matter. There were plenty of other ways for them to express themselves.

Akuba was around his age, if not a few years older. She was tall, athletic and curvy with sparkling hickory eyes and a wide inviting smile. When he'd first seen her, she had a soft curly Afro that she adorned with cowrie shells and yellow flowers from the field. But once she was given to him, the mothers had shaved her head bald and anointed her with oil.

The other young women her age were married with one or two babies. She, however, had lived alone in a tiny hut close to the chief. She cooked with the other women when there were hunts and she sang their sacred songs, but otherwise, she kept to herself and didn't talk much to anyone. There was a rugged scar, once deep and angry, going down the outside of her right leg. As it healed and the skin doubled over on itself, the scar tissue puffed out, away from her body, looking like an etching from a sculptor's chisel. She was most certainly concealing something. But he felt it better to let her divulge her secrets in time. He certainly had no desire to lay bare his own right now.

Their hut had a thatched roof, mud walls, openings for windows and a deep pit to make fire and cook meals. It was the sparest home he'd had so far. And the one for which he was most grateful. The savannah was much calmer and temperate than other areas he'd traversed, but it could turn hostile in a matter of moments; dust, torrential rains, whipping winds and heat so severe that even day walking felt like a harried fever-dream.

The chief had lived multiple lives and commanded enough of an English vocabulary that he could hold deeper talks and make common ground with James. When time and mood permitted. But he wouldn't have that ease with her.

It was okay. Women held an energy in stark contrast with the warriors, griots and elders of the tribe. There could be a comfort there; something he realized he'd been missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can contact me here on my [tumblr](http://dbshawnblog.tumblr.com/)


	5. In the Beginning – Part 2a

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zilpha and James grow up and their relationship becomes complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: This chapter contains graphic details of incest. If this is offensive to you, PLEASE do not proceed.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **I searched the internet for several articles of sibling incest, to try and get an understanding of why these relationships develop. Several of the articles had siblings who said they simply didn't know why they fell in love with each other, but it was a thing for a time and then they eventually grew out of it. A few of the articles featured siblings who hadn't grown up together initially and once they became acquainted with one another, their familial bonds lead to an overwhelming attraction that they still couldn't explain. Only one of the articles featured a "couple" who surmised that they came together sexually because they were so similar to each other; that it was almost like being with another part of themselves.**
> 
>  
> 
> **In any case, I've attempted to capture what brought James and Zilpha together without creating a story that would overwhelm our modern sensibilities. Once again, if this subject matter doesn't suit you, feel free to read the other chapters that come after.**

It wasn’t ‘til he turned eleven that he sensed something different in Zilpha. She had always been a bit aloof and callous. Lately, she seemed tender and protective. She drew more into herself and wouldn’t meet his gaze as readily as before. Even her natural scent had changed. James could sense her metamorphosis even if he couldn’t yet name it.

They became secretive about their jaunts in the forest. Zilpha’s governess, became more vocal about the need to deepen her studies, in order to become a proper young lady. Father reminded her of learning the rigors of maintaining a household, for in a future looming closer than she could see, she would be someone’s wife.

It wasn’t that Zilpha, now thirteen, eschewed the notion of family life. But she couldn’t yet see it with her young eyes. She preferred her life in the wild with James; playing, foraging for wild fruit, resting in the loose swirl of the breeze and now, learning to hunt. Sometimes she even dreamt of becoming an artist, in the vein of sweet Nan.

James had already caught rabbits, squirrels and opossum on their outings. He always wanted to bring them home to be skinned and roasted for supper but she forced him to release them back into the forest. There was no way that all of the servants would keep quiet about his catch and therefore their exploits. Father wouldn’t blink an eye at James, but if he knew Zilpha participated, James would face his wrath.

Today, he had promised to teach her to use his bow and arrow; a gracious and secret gift he received from Nan. She’d wanted to slip out of the house at noonday, but James convinced her that it was better to leave later in the afternoon.

“More creatures roam about once the heat of the day is done,” he confided. She didn’t doubt him. She simply wanted more time away from the heaviness of the house.

Another perfunctory Sunday dinner passed. Zilpha feigned needing a nap upstairs while James bolted off, supposedly to play by the banks of the Thames. The staff proceeded without much notice of either one of them and Father rested in his own parlor before preparing for an evening of chamber music with society folk.

Then the persistent ping of pebbles against her window and she, changing into less delicate clothes, descended the stairs to the first floor, creeping quietly, with a small satchel across her chest and a canister of water in one hand. Then they were off. Full of nervous excitement.

“James what if Brace realizes we’re gone and decides to tell?”

Zilpha’s concern only made him laugh.

“He’ll have to punish me. It was me that convinced you, yes?”

He turned around and winked at her. She let out a small laugh. He was her James. Fearless and wanton and full of adventure. Growing taller and more restless by the minute. Even now, she was shocked at how well she knew him.

When her monthly cycle came, she wondered if it was time to resign herself to household things. She was frightened of the bright red blood that flowed from her loins, accompanied by cramps and an uncontrollable moodiness. The blooming buds that were her young breasts still seemed awkward and out of place. Before, blouses and petticoats hung loosely against her chest. Now they were snug, threatening to become tight as her eager nipples and round flesh poked against the fabric. Every so often she would catch James staring at her. She, initially feeling repulsive and strange, would find comfort when his dark eyes warmed over her. He marveled at her transformation, admiring the soft curvature of her body and its contrast to his own linear physique.

They followed the well-worn path into the forest, came upon their clearing and then crossed the low lying waters of the creek to the other side; a denser patch of wild lying before them. She shed her petticoat and her skirt, revealing a loose top and slacks, allowing for greater ease of movement. James removed his shoes, convincing her to do the same.

“Won’t give yourself away so easily,” he’d explained.

Zilpha opened up the canister of water, took a healthy swig and then passed it to James. He gulped the rest of the water greedily and passed it back to her.

“We’ll fill it up by the creek when we’re done,” he explained as she stood aghast.

He steadied his ear to the forest interior and waited for what felt like an eternity. At first, Zilpha could only hear the caw of birds, the hum of bees and the steady chirp of crickets. For a long time, she wondered what James could hear that she could not. But now her ears became attuned to sounds beneath the surface and the world became a silent symphony.

The sun sat lower in the sky, pulsing beams of light behind them. She followed him into the covered dark, stepping softly on the forest bed, over random branches, wincing at the slight sting of pine cone needles and prickly grass. Step by step they inched further between looming trees, wafting their fragrance and swaying in the intermittent breeze. She noticed the moss at the base of the trees, immediately fashioning due North against their current position. Deeper and deeper they went until James’ body became still, heightened on alert. About 50 yards to their left were three deer, grazing quietly, seemingly unaware of the pair.

James motioned Zilpha over while slowly removing the bow from his arm, sliding out a few arrows from the sack he carried on his back. She inhaled deeply before creeping over and standing in front of him. He passed her the bow and a single arrow and helped her get into position.

“Give yourself a few breaths. See the shot in your mind, then raise your bow, aim and shoot.”

_Zilpha closed her eyes, letting her mind recreate the scene. There was James standing steadily behind her and the deer a ways off and the sun rays poking through the tree limbs and her own self seeming slight and small, excited to aim and make a catch. She was enveloped by the pulse of her heartbeat and the wandering eye of the stag, bent down grazing the forest floor, the feel of James’ hands anchoring her at her waist, a slice of sunray angled down on her shoulder and the sound of two birds up above, the fluttering of their wings magnified tenfold. She saw herself raise the bow, arrow held securely in place, pull back strongly and shoot._

She opened her eyes quickly and raised her bow, this time for true; quickened breaths raising the hairs on her arms, James’ hands steadying her, pulling her right arm back, bow string creaking ‘til taut, her throat slightly dry, swallowing to steady herself. She caught the first flinch of the doe, head raised, then turned, stumbling backwards for a millisecond before scurrying forward frantically, the other doe and the stag not too far behind.

She watched them flee, then from her peripheral vision, she saw the beast approaching them from the other side. It was massive, furry with large grey eyes, focused ominously on her and James. It seemed to tower over them. She opened her mouth but couldn’t elicit a sound. Meanwhile, James pushed her firmly behind him, stepped forward with raised hands, bellowing guttural sounds and making himself as big as possible. The wolf, it’s white and black fur set in spikes jutting from its skin, spread its legs defensively, baring its teeth and growling from deep within its body.

James picked up a random branch from the ground, his eyes burning with golden flecks of fiery intent and sprinted forward.

“James, be CAREFUL!!”, Zilpha yelped quietly.

James’ grunts became louder against the wolf’s growling. They lunged towards each other, vying for dominance and space. The wolf opened its mighty jaws and grabbed the branch in James’ hand. James, unwilling to be overtaken, pulled back with a mighty force of his own and the wolf’s head jerked forward. He was now even closer to the beast, seeing the curve of his long ivory fangs and staring directly into his eyes.

James began uttering words that Zilpha couldn’t understand; deep and low, caught in a struggle with the beast and his own courage.

Zilpha was frozen in place. Not caring where the deer had gone. Not knowing if there were other wolves hidden from view, waiting to pounce upon them both. Her breathing, now labored and fast was the only thing upon which she could focus, outside of her worry that they might not leave this place.

James and the wolf continued their tug of war until the beast gained momentum, yanking the stick and swiping at him with his paw, breaking the skin on his left hand. James lost his balance and fell helpless to the ground, partially landing upon Zilpha as she fell like a domino.

The wolf tossed the branch behind him with a swing of his mighty head and in an instant, was upon James, paw on his chest, threatening them both.

James lifted his head, refusing to be intimidated and let out a groan from the pit of his own stomach.

“You don’t scare me creature. End me or leave!”, he shouted.

The wolf bent his face all the way down, so they both could smell its smoky breath, swiped James’ chest once with his steely claw, let out a mighty growl, then stood upright, looked left and right and retreated back into the darkness.

Later that night, having been stitched up, bandaged and knocked around a bit by an angry Horace, James crept softly into Zilpha’s room. He lay down upon her bed and chuckled when she gasped, then burst into tears.

“Testing the limits like we can all bear it like you?”

Zilpha was furious and relieved, frightened and grateful. She turned over and moved closer to James, snuggling against his cheek, bringing a hand above them to comb through his hair.

“What if I’d lost you?” she whispered.

He bent down to kiss her on the cheek but she happened to turn her head towards him and his lips landed firmly upon her lips. The sensation was enough to jolt both of them; shivers traversing their torsos, eyes and minds open, fertile terrain. They lay still for what seemed to be an ocean of time. Until Zilpha closed her eyes, as if to swallow this moment whole. He felt her heart strings reach out to embrace him, fear and shock still pulsing through her. He never let his eyes move away from her.

“You can’t lose me Zilpha. We’re alike, remember? As long as you are, so am I.”

He moved towards her again, this time gently letting one of his hands touch her cheek. She opened her eyes just as he planted his mouth on hers once more. Part of her stunned, part of her settled in quiet knowing. They kissed over and over again, savoring the softness of each other’s lips and the feelings rising from deep within. James wiped the damp from one of her eyes and Zilpha curled into him, pulling his other arm over her. He sweetly waited for her to drift off to sleep before slipping back to his own room.

* * *

 

Two nights later, after a hearty dinner of lamb chops, carrots and leafy greens, Horace sat at the table with his children. Not so much children anymore, but he still thought of them as such. He was a tall severe man, who rarely smiled at home and certainly not in his office. He saw no need for false frivolity or giddiness when there was work to be done and money to be made.

Zilpha sat sipping tea, eyes averting her brother and her father. James was fidgeting, pushing his knife back and forth against the grain of the wooden table, stealing glances at her. He could feel the stern gaze of his father pouring over both of them.

“It seems you two have a healthy affinity for adventure that I haven’t properly addressed.” Horace’s voice was deeply disgusted.

“Therefore James, I’ve decided to enroll you in the cadet academy of the East India Company. Some time in the barracks, following stringent orders should do you some good.” The edge of his eyes became as sharp as a dagger, aimed at James’ head. An unmitigated threat.

“And as for you, young lady, it’s time that your wild streak was tamed with culture. I’ve requested that your governess add dancing lessons and trips to the city museums. When time affords it, you’ll accompany me to those classical concerts I love. It’s time you learned to be a lady, not a creature in the forest.

He wiped his mouth one last time with the heavy dinner napkin in his lap, backed away from the table and headed to his smoking room to light up his cherry tobacco pipe and review business records.

Zilpha was still staring down at the table, but she reached beneath the tablecloth to take James’ hand. He held it firmly while glaring back at Horace.

* * *

 

Their excursion left poor Zilpha astonished and stultified. It left James with a plethora of injections and a physician’s orders to ride out his low-grade fever by resting and hydrating. A few more weeks at home, then James was to be sent away to East India. There he would attend classes, religious services and of course, regimented military training.

In the time that he was to heal, James began to change. His senses became heightened; the chromatic palette of the world became brighter, more saturated; his hearing became deeper and pointedly attuned to everything in his vicinity. Now he could eavesdrop on people’s conversations as they walked outside, or hear dogs and other creatures, howling far beyond their property. But stranger still, just as he could peek into Zilpha’s mind, feeling her thoughts, now he could peek into the mind of the crow on the foreshore or the seemingly random deer sipping water from their creek. He detected the metallic tinge of Zilpha’s monthly flow, awakening to her ability to now carry life. No one else in the house caught wind of this development but Zilpha. She felt his mind broadening; rising and flooding his senses like the river at high tide. He frightened and intrigued her. Her quiet James.

It was in that precious time, that James and Zilpha were caught in the sinewy strings of a new understanding. Within the house, Zilpha, torn between decorum and these new delights, seemed to grow colder towards him. She rarely remained in a room once he entered, answering him with curt, abrupt words, flicking invisible darts at him with her eyes. But inevitably they would find themselves alone in the library or in their outside clearing and she could no longer maintain the façade.

She was skittish, like a bird in an open cage, conflicted between safe capture and unknown freedom. He was a mass of heat and wanting. He only had to look at her; in the library, at the kitchen table, passing her in the hall and her blood would quiver. She could feel the tension rising from his skin, emanating out to her in waves.

These new feelings, sensations, waves of titillation were too much to contain. He kissed her once as they passed each other in the hallway. He held her hand just for a moment in the library whilst they were reading. And in their clearing, he kissed her pointedly, daring to push his tongue into her mouth. She winced at first, unused to the sensation, not quite knowing how to respond. Until she relaxed enough to let his tongue intertwine with hers in a snake-like dance.

They still read together in Father’s library; she, romantic stories of a heroine rescued by her love; he, tales of adventure in a place called India; an exotic and mysterious land filled with unusual creatures and dark people worshipping foreign gods.

“If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?” he asked earnestly.

He was lying on the floor sprawled out with a massive book before him. She was sitting in a chair far too large for her fragile frame. His elbow almost touching the soles of one of her feet.

“Probably Paris, then Rome or maybe Istanbul.”

“India seems to call to me, but I’ve always wondered about the colonies in the New World. When I sail away for Paradise, will you still come with me?”, he asked earnestly.

“Only if you promise me treasure and adventure.” She smiled hesitantly at him.

“What’s troubling you?” He was staring at her intently, wanting to kiss her.

“This will be the first time I’m alone in this house since you came. No one to have adventures with. No buffer between me and Father. Just me and the house.”

He smiled warmly at her, happy that she revealed her displeasure so openly with him. He stood up, placing both of his hands at the base of her head and kissed her passionately. As much as she loved the feel of his mouth on hers, she knew to pull away, lest they be caught by a housekeeper or even Father.

“I won’t be gone forever sister. You’re in my heart. Wherever I may be. Wait for me.”

He paused for a moment, listening for any movement outside of the library, then kissed her once more.

* * *

 

James was skint. He wanted to stay with Zilpha, but instead, was forced to adhere to the rigors of the East India. And this was the ultimate reason he gave in, utterly and completely to his wildness.

In the classroom, he was an excellent student, taking easily to foreign languages, using his Latin base to soak up Spanish, French and Italian. He devoured history and soaked up navigation noting the various historical methods of exploration. His insides roared as he learned every aspect of ships; their parts, how to hoist the flags, how to steer and navigate using the stars. The thought of the ocean carrying him worlds away was exhilarating.

But he bristled at the exercises and marching and pledging the Company expected from its young cadets. Precision and rigor had their place, but what good were they to people who despised rigidity?

He saw peoples emerging from ships recently arrived from the New World; men and women who looked very similar to his mother. He imagined they excitedly came to the palace, sharing the bounty of their land with the King.

His Commanding Officer, Cornelius Cumberbatch, a young scholar and former soldier, demanded much from his charges, intellectually and physically. But he was prone to a lenience with the young boys on their outings, especially those related to sailing. As the boys felt like younger brothers to him, he often sought their camaraderie instead of their obedience. And they took advantage of this weakness with an impish pleasure.

The Headmaster, Sir Stuart Strange was a stern taskmaster, rewarding diligence but doling out cruel yet creative punishments for disobedience. When James convinced his classmates to add small handfuls of gunpowder to the grease in the kitchen, he was deprived of meals and made to work there as penance. When he poured water on snoring cadets in the barracks, he was made to drink nothing but water for an entire two days. When he wrestled a bear they chanced upon in a traveling circus, he was made to clean their entire animal stalls the next evening. And when he led a “rebellion” that involved hijacking a company ship he was summarily released. It took just under a year for him to find himself right back at home.

Zilpha resigned herself to the loneliness and gloom of the house, diving head first into her studies, reading books from the family library voraciously, learning to knit and sew and making a few friends from their weekly church service. She even caught the eye of a young boy in the neighborhood named Simeon, ginger-haired, intellectual, well read with a sweet smile. He would wait to chat with her a few moments after service, commenting on the color of her dress or gifting her with a flower he’d so obviously picked from the meadow right outside. He was slight and wiry, and he often smelled of cinnamon. Zilpha enjoyed his attention, even when Father glared at her and yelled for her to come take their carriage home.

True to his word, Horace made sure that Zilpha became as cultured as possible. He purchased more classic literature for her to read, he gave her governess an extra stipend for trips to the ballet and art museum exhibits. And she became his escort to the opera.

Zilpha wasn’t particularly close to her father, but she adored the chance to wear new silk dresses in vibrant hues of blue or green, letting her hair down in soft curls and lightly splashing on a fragrant floral perfume. Within the stone walls of the Opera House, she could put her Italian and German lessons to good use. She loved the melodic precision of Mozart’s Magic Flute, the unguarded freedom of a Beethoven opus or the thunderous majesty of Haydn’s Creation. The Creation made her imagination burst forth. She envisioned God as an Almighty orchestral conductor, waving his meteorite-laden baton, spiraling galaxies and stars into being.

Horace was a decent companion. He would remark on her beauty and often ask her to translate the original text of a musical piece; a test to ensure she had indeed kept up with her lessons. Yet it wasn’t before long that he introduced her to cohorts, society fixtures and single, older men. She stiffened at the latter, for she had no doubts about Horace’s motives and plans. Men. Some older and monied, some widowers, or simply bachelors, all looking for a young, nubile lady to marry, and have respectable children in a respectable home. She warmed at the thought of having raven-haired babies. She cringed at the thought of a stranger-turned husband, over a decade her senior, kissing her stiffly after dinner only to climb on top of her at night.

There were new feelings stirring within her. They swirled in her stomach like whirling butterflies and caused her cheeks to blush without effort. She’d read a few romance novels that hinted at the spring that could erupt in a woman’s heart. She was still very young and very confused. For when she lay in bed at night, she dreamt of James. Improper but so very, very palpable. What did this mean?

* * *

 

Another afternoon, after James assisted Horace at his shipping offices and the household staff was busy tending to meals and laundry and house repairs. This afforded him, now thirteen and Zilpha, fifteen, the chance to lay in their clearing.

James stood by a large oak tree and began stripping. Removing his shirt, then his pants and knickers, until he had on nothing at all.

“What are you doing now?,” Zilpha asked.

“First a swim farther down the creek, then I’m off to search for berries and figs for us to eat. Hurry up!!”

Zilpha walked towards the tree, feeling unsure.

“There’s no one around us to see. I promise.” He reassured.

Zilpha removed her petticoat and her skirts. James was already walking towards the water, then diving down to submerge himself. She watched James leap in, splashing around wildly for a time until he leapt out again, heading to the edge of the forest. She decided to leave her camisole and frilly knickers by the tree and test things out in the nude. She felt exposed, but was happy to have more freedom than usual. The sweat on her skin began to cool even in the warm air.

Zilpha walked hesitantly towards the water, letting it cover her bare feet. She was surprised at how cool it felt in contrast to the humid summer air. James taught her how to swim during their last summer. She was wasn’t as confident as him, so she was content to wade in a ways then serenely float on her back.

She didn’t realize how long she was lost in thought until James startled her, bursting out of the water as if jolted by a bit of electricity.

“I wish I could simply grow scales and gills and swim to the river and then into the wide ocean.” He was grinning at her, delighting in having scared her.

“Always dreaming of escape, by hook or crook, James? You can’t build me a palace, if you’re off on adventures brother.”

She stood up to face him, hastily splashing a stream of water in his face. He summarily splashed back, and she winced and laughed as the water hit her face, plunging into her eyes.

She yelped heartily, backing away from him as he continued to send waves of water her way. She tried, in vain to retaliate, but seeing that she was overpowered, she turned away from him, scrambled out of the creek and ran toward their oak tree for refuge.

James gave chase, laughing at her and flinging rivulets of water at her even as she ran for cover. In a satchel made from a scrap of cloth, he had the figs and berries he’d picked at the edge of the forest wrapped around his waist.

Zilpha felt a slight chill as the beads of creek water evaporated against her skin. The chill was followed by the comforting warmth of sunlight. She tied her hair in a quick bun behind her, and quickly threw James’ shirt on. The seams at the bottom of his shirt reached towards her knees.

“No fair. What will I wear back to the house?,” he joked as he approached her.

She snatched his knickers and held them up as a warning.

“You’ll return home as bare as you were when you entered this world!”

He immediately ran and grabbed her voluminous skirt, hastily wrapped it around his waist and lower region.

“Fine! I guess you’ll have to explain why I’m wearing **this** to Brace. Or better yet Father!”

He sauntered around, feigning to be a lady, placing the fruit atop his head, walking on the balls of his feet mimicking imaginary heels.

“Brace, prepare my bath. I’ve been in the woods with that scoundrel James and I need to wash away his iniquities…”

Zilpha ran after him laughing and trying to grab her skirt back. A few seconds later, as his words sank in, she stopped in her tracks and suddenly become serious.

“I would never think, let alone say that about you. Don’t you know that?”

“Even after all of the trouble I’ve caused?” His amber eyes turned dark and his usually assured voice carried a hint of uncertainty. She’d heard Father call him horrid, saying how he needed to be broken like a beast. That he sometimes wished James had never been born, so he wouldn’t have to suffer the embarrassment of such an unruly son. And she knew how much that wounded James. Even if he remained unfeeling when Horace was around.

Zilpha took her skirt from him and spread it out beneath their oak tree. He took his knickers from her, swiftly putting them back on and followed her. She sat down upon it, offering a hand to James for him to join her.

Now it was she who was opening her mind to his. She carried the same recklessness within in herself, subduing it simply because she was supposed to.

He was sitting close enough that she could sweetly stroke his cheek. She smiled at him, hoping to wash his doubts away.

Then she kissed him. Sweetly, serenely and sumptuously.

“You’re no trouble James. You’re an explorer.”

She opened his shirt, exposing her breasts.

“I…”, he was visibly excited, yet unsure.

He ran his hand from her cheek to her neck, across her breasts and swiftly over the triangle between her legs. She flinched slightly in that moment, so he let his hand come back to her face and kissed her, pointedly.

“Is this alright?,” his voice still held chords of uncertainty. Zilpha could see him growing hard through his knickers. She hadn’t been officially courted by anyone. If she were, she doubted if she would allow any interaction beyond an innocent kiss. But this wasn’t anyone. This was James. And her layers were beginning to unravel.

She grabbed one of his hands letting his forefinger slide smoothly into her mouth and sucked on it. Just enough for his breathing to become erratic. Then she let his finger slip from her mouth and placed his hand on her chest.

“You’re not meant to be subdued.” She was shocked at the directness and clarity of her voice.

James moved down, taking a ripe, nipple into his mouth. Zilpha sighed, feeling a cord of ecstasy run from her chest through her abdomen down into her womanhood. He sucked and teased her tender flesh, finally flicking his tongue back and forth over it and squeezing her other breast with his free hand.

The feelings were deliciously sinful and Zilpha didn’t want them to stop. He was fondling and kissing both her breasts now, but his eyes were locked on her face, soaking in her response to his touch.

_At one point she looked directly at him and suddenly she was with him in his EIC barracks, watching as his fellow cadets called him a mongrel; his skin visibly darker than theirs. She felt his shame as they threw half-eaten morsels of food at him in the mess hall and refused to sleep near him. He dealt with them stoically, but internally she knew that he felt the fissure between his unguarded spirit and their civility._

He ran his hand down her body again and stopped before reached her privates. This time she opened her legs slightly while also opening the chambers of her heart. She wanted to hold him. To soothe all of his empty places.

He slid his hand down to her soft, wet sex. She moaned as he ran his palm up and down the delicate skin. He found her most tender spot, and began running a finger back and forth against her swollen nub. Zilpha let out an excited squeal, shocked that such a sound could ever come from her. James, still looking at her, smiled impishly and slipped a lone finger inside her. The sensation jolted her back up off of the ground. She squeezed around his digit as he moved it back and forth inside her. She couldn’t help but move against him, friction spiking out in every direction simultaneously, like sparks of wildfire scorching her fertile terrain. Finally, he pulled his finger from inside her and pushed it into her open mouth. She sucked his finger vigorously, merging the taste of herself with her desire to please him.

Glancing down, she could see his member, now rigid and long, and she reached out to touch him, running her hand up and down his shaft, the fabric of his knickers between them. Now it was he who flinched.

“We should stop”, James whispered.

“Are you afraid?” she teased.

“No.” he said, shaking his head back and forth.

He was only certain that he wanted more. And he wasn’t sure how to ask.

“We should get back before they notice how long we’ve been gone.”

He quickly kissed her, then jumped up offering her a willing hand. They slowly got dressed and walked back towards the house, quiet and lost in their own thoughts.


	6. In the Beginning – Part 2b

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zilpha and James come together in a way they never have before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: This chapter contains graphic details of incest. If this is offensive to you, PLEASE do not proceed.**
> 
> **I searched the internet for several articles of sibling incest, to try and get an understanding of why these relationships develop. Several of the articles had siblings who said they simply didn't know why they fell in love with each other, but it was a thing for a time and then they eventually grew out of it. A few of the articles featured siblings who hadn't grown up together initially and once they became acquainted with one another, their familial bonds lead to an overwhelming attraction that they still couldn't explain. Only one of the articles featured a "couple" who surmised that they came together sexually because they were so similar to each other; that it was almost like being with another part of themselves.**
> 
> **In any case, I've attempted to capture what brought James and Zilpha together without creating a story that would overwhelm our modern sensibilities. Once again, if this subject matter doesn't suit you, feel free to read the other chapters that come after.**

Now that he was back attending regular school, James spent days in class and afternoons with Horace at the shipping offices. He was often tasked with helping to clean the one ship Horace owned outright or helping Horace’s employees pull and store stock from the docks. While his father didn’t interact much with him during this time, he was gracious enough to let James sit in on his business meetings. The colonies of America were the main focus for every trader, merchant and opportunist in Britain. James smelled the rich, tangy tobacco men loved to smoke and felt the creamy beaver furs which sent clothiers into a tailspin. Now Horace was intrigued with the burgeoning cotton industry, determined to use his company to bring that bounty back home to sell to every dressmaker in the vicinity.

His time now with Zilpha was often clipped until the weekends when they could find excuses to become missing for a few hours.

Tonight they were in the living room. Post dinner. James was staring out into the distance, but she could feel him, pulling back the curtain of her own existence, wanting to enter. They’d barely spoken all day. She’d attended her first formal dance. Several of Horace’s associates had conveniently been there to lead her in three-quarter time, while the ensemble played. Simeon was her official escort. He came to the house to get her into the awaiting carriage. She secretly smiled watching James’ face become enflamed as Simeon handed her a stunning blue tulip, kissing her sweetly on the cheek. Horace kept James behind to balance the Delaney Company books and file paperwork.

“Tell me about her.” He seemed to be watching the piers of the Thames.

“Mother was beautiful and kind and smart. So smart. I felt as if the sun was always shining on me when we were together.” Zilpha was sitting on the sofa, with a partially finished stitching project and a half-finished book in her lap.

“Was she at all like Nan?”

“Quieter, but just as sweet and curious. Nan told me she trained to be an opera singer for a short while. When my grandfather forbade it, she started to write stories. She wrote constantly, even once she got sick. I think Nan has her notebooks in her attic somewhere.”

James, already with closed eyes, simply grunted in response. She knew he was listening even though he seemed just beyond her reach.

“I think, if she were here, she would love you.”

The silence between them was weighty and thick. Outside a fog horn was blaring in the distance and the soft pats of raindrops began beating against the window.

“Do you love me?”

His voice was clear and deep.

She sat still for a moment, using her hands to smooth the fabric of her dress away from her body. Then she stood up, motioned for him to follow, and went to her bedroom.

Upstairs there was much fumbling and wincing and prodding as she attempted to discard her dress. James awkwardly tried to assist. Finally, after every button had been freed from its clasp, her dress flung across a chair, she turned to him.

They came together in a tight embrace, kissing, caressing and fondling each other.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I love you!”

“I don’t want Simeon kissing you. I don’t want anyone kissing you…but me.”

His face was dark and pained and serious. He reached to remove to remove her camisole and she pushed his hand away, instead reaching for the buttons on his pants.

“James…you’re jealous.” She liked invoking his anger, just a touch. With Father he was dutiful and quiet and staid. But she liked to know that she and she alone, could keep him true to his nature. There was something dangerous about him that she simply found intoxicating. She knew he would watch over her, protect her, and keep her safe. What would he do to a rival?

She stared at him, smiling impishly, licking her lips while pulling his pants down to his thighs. He stepped out of his shoes and fully out of his knickers and when he realized it she was upon him. She reached for him, noticing the large jagged vein circling down. She was intrigued by how thick and hard he was now that he was aroused.

“Do you actually like him?”

Pushing him onto her bed, Zilpha lifted up just long enough to glimpse into his eyes before bending down before him.

“I’m not quite so sure James. You tell me…” Zilpha was finding her hunger. She needed to him to satiate it.

She grinned slyly, picked up his cock, pulling his foreskin back, then lowered her lips onto the engorged head.

“Uhhhh. Fuck!”, he moaned.

James’ eyes, usually a fortress shielding the world from his emotions, became wide and open and vulnerable, for maybe the first time in his adolescent life. Zilpha always found some way to surprise him. She was a minx and he was intoxicated.

Zilpha let her lips caress him, tasting the saltiness of his skin. Then she pushed his dick back and forth in her mouth. Clumsily, until she found the right rhythm.

He was awash in such lusciousness that the feel of her lips upon him melted the walls of her room away.

Zilpha, was gentle and tender at first, but as she heard groans escape his lips, she tightened her eager mouth around him, increasing the suction and friction. How had she not known before that this was a part of pleasure between a man and woman? She pulled back a bit to tease and taste him with her tongue, circling the head of his penis and soaking up the drops of fluid forming there. James began panting and jerking, knowing that all of the control he had mustered so far would soon no longer be of any use.

“Zilpha…I.

His words were coming in between breaths.

“I’m gonna…”, he was pleading with her. Holding his breath and contracting his thighs so he wouldn’t come all over her linen. He wanted to be inside her but she had something else in mind.

She deftly removed her undergarments, pushed him back on the bed and then came at his penis from the opposite direction, her womanhood exposed and available to his mouth. While she took him in her mouth again, he let himself explore her nether regions. He marveled at how soft and silky and wet she was. He kissed and sucked at the tender flesh as she rotated her hips back and forth.

She was a tease and a provocateur. And he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t simply adore her. He needed her. And she was opening the tendrils of herself to him, petal by tender petal.

Then she felt the forceful pulse of his dick and he felt the spasms coming and while he should have tended to her pussy his mind took him to that one focal point. Zilpha refused to be deterred by his jarring about. When he could no longer contain himself or his body, he let out a guttural growl, rapid streams of milky semen spurting from him in undulating waves. A tiny portion of his brain convinced him to bite into her flesh so he wouldn’t wake the servants. Zilpha let out a tiny squeal and then lapped up everything that had spurted from him on his dick, his thighs and even his balls.

Then there was a hefty knock at his oak door.

“Master Delaney, is everything alright?”

It was Brace. Overly reliable, dependable Brace. Forever ready to assist every Delaney in the house.

Zilpha bit her tongue to stop herself.

“Uhhh…I’m fine Brace. I just…had a terrible nightmare. Dreams of mother and all”

Brace paused for a moment.

“Alright. Well, I’m just downstairs if you need me young Master.”

“Thank you. Just need to steady myself a bit and I’ll be fine.”

They waited to hear Brace thump down the stairs ’til he opened his own bedroom door then they burst into laughter.

* * *

 

By the time he was fourteen, Horace convinced the East India to reinstate James’ enrollment in the Academy. James left begrudgingly. He didn’t want to protest and catch the attention of Brace, who he suspected, knew of his connection to Zilpha. Horace had found a young woman he felt was marriage material and he didn’t need the likes of James distracting him from his opportunity. The East India were keen to utilize James training in arms and naval maneuvering in some of their low-level British assignments. And of course, if he pulled any shenanigans this time, he would be expelled permanently.

As for Zilpha, he now had a select few men coming to the house to seriously court her. Zilpha utilized her moodiness and acerbic wit in hopes of discouraging all of them. Horace promptly reminded her that she would indeed become married or simply live the life and insecurity of a governess. But she wouldn’t be in his home forever.

For James, that year was full of excursions to France, Belgium and Germany; learning the intricate pieces of hand guns, rifles and bayonets, steering ships throughout the North Sea, and soaking in the stories of merchant men who had traveled to the wilds of India, China and Africa. Supposedly Stuart Strange had a brother who made regular excursions to the Dark Continent.

For her, life became an endless array of various flowers and dates and dinners amongst her now regular trips to the home of sponsors for chamber music by classical masters. She even met a few of the young wives of Horace’s business partners. She learned how to throw a proper dinner party, the art of floral arrangements and even spending a tiny amount of time playing and caring for these couples’ small children. She stifled her feelings of entrapment by focusing on her piano lessons and she even dove into her mother’s family recipe book, learning to cook a few meals, with the gentle help of the staff of course. There was a dull ache, gnawing at the back of her head. And it was her need for escape and unadulterated time with James. The world was becoming muted and mundane.

* * *

 

Luckily for them both, the summer found Horace’s business and love interests pointed back towards the New World. The Carolinas held a bounty of rich crops and opportunity for trade. It also held the home of a very, wealthy and widowed governess who loved traveling, throwing wild parties and indulging her appetites. She was young enough and feisty enough that poor Horace couldn’t resist her charms if he tried. He packed up his offices and sailed out for Charleston, letting the staff know that he wouldn’t be back for a month or so. He left Brace with a stipend for Zilpha and James upon which to live and maintain the house. By this time James, who was away from the East India until the fall term, was taking on small jobs for them in London, for a meager salary.

Luckier still was the summons that came from Nan for a visit in the countryside. Brace did his best to demand that James remain in London, but there was nothing he could do when the carriage arrived and Nan’s coachmen expressed how extreme her disappointment would be if James were not to show.

Their time with Nan was freeing and glorious. She would have it no other way. James helped her repair walls and paint. Zilpha enjoyed planting fall vegetables in her garden. Nan made sure to keep them well fed and entertained with musical nights in her parlor and quiet afternoons for reading in her library or painting.

Nan’s neighbor was kind enough to lend James his horse for the day. So he decided to take Zilpha into the countryside. It had been too long since they’d truly been alone together.

Zilpha carried a covered basket and a few large blankets with her. Nan had been insistent that they pack fresh sandwiches, scones with clotted cream and jam and fresh fruit from her garden. Zilpha rode behind James on the magnificent steed, who kept a slow steady pace as they ventured deep into rolling hills and verdant trees.

“If we ride past the Wentworth’s cottage we’ll come to a clearing off the Fleet that has a nearby artesian well. Plenty of cool water to drink.”

James grunted at her suggestion. He didn’t really care where they went as long as they were together.

After about a mile’s rider further and they came upon the clearing near the Fleet River. No houses in sight except for a lone watermill. The sun was low, yet still bright in the sky. They found a large tree under which to take cover. While James tied the horse to the stake of a fence, Zilpha laid out their blankets and picnic wares. She sighed as a cool breeze caressed their skin. This was their summer and all things considered she couldn’t be happier.

She pulled out a large capped tin and went to find the artesian well to fill it. They would need to make several more trips to the well if they wanted to stay here all day. If she could capture this moment in time, bottle it and save it, she would stay here forever. There was peace and tranquility. Beautiful Nan to love them unconditionally and give them plenty of space. There were nearby friends who would often come to play games or make music in Nan’s exquisitely decorated parlor. There were a few suitors who had caught her eye, vying for her attention with their degrees and tales of travel.

But most importantly, there was James. Tall, broad, chiseled James. Whose stare could scorch her skin with one glance. Whose voice, now low and resonant, stirred something deep within her. It had been too long since they’d last touched each other. She could feel restless pools of water rising in within him, threatening to burst from his dam and flood them both.

She worried lately. Because time was moving them in different directions. He spoke more and more about sailing away to explore the world. No longer a little boy’s fantasy, but now a young man’s possibility. Outside of becoming a governess or a chaperone, she would become a wife. Binding her body and soul to a man whose heart would inevitably be an ill fit. She warmed at the thought of having children to love and teach and cherish. But she wondered if life would be kind enough to allow her to share a sliver of her fate with James. Would he return to visit and regale her with tales of the vast unknown? Would he himself marry and start a family, nearby?

When she returned, James was lying down on one of the blankets, munching on one of the sandwiches hastily. He grinned at her as she approached. He’d never seemed more relaxed…and handsome.

“You were supposed to wait for me greedy!”

She smiled broadly and plopped herself down on the blanket beside him.

“Starving. Famished. Couldn’t wait”, he said with a mouthful of food. She grabbed a napkin and wiped the side of his mouth.

She opened the tin canister and took a nice, long gulp of water. James grabbed the canister hastily from her and chugged a large portion of the rest.

“You act as if Nan hasn’t been spoiling you all week. She’ll have to replenish the entire pantry when we leave.”

“I seem to have a hearty appetite…for so many things lately” He smiled at her with his eyes, teasingly.

Before she could respond, he reached over and kissed her firmly on the cheek. Not satisfied with that, he kissed her firmly on her lips. Then he sat back and stared out over the river.

“I can’t help what I feel.”

“Father will choose my betrothed when he. I’ll be someone’s wife. And soon after someone’s Mother.”

He put his stuff down and moved closer to Zilpha. Laying on his side, propped up by his elbow, he grabbed her right hand and brought it to his lips. He tenderly kissed her long, slender fingers.

“Or…you could simply be mine,” he said gazing at her. His green eyes as verdant and wide as the opportunities that lay before them. “There’s a whole world beyond London. We could explore it, together.”

Zilpha caressed his cheek with her hand and let out a sigh.

“I told you once that I would build you a palace. It needn’t be in England. It can be a million miles from here. Anywhere you want.”

“James, you know that I want that. Desperately. But I’m a woman and women don’t get free reign. I doubt if there’s anywhere in the world a woman can truly belong to herself, doing exactly as she pleases. If there were, I’d fly away with you there right now.”

He sat up next to her. So close that the warmth of his breath in the cradle of her neck was enough to make her melt. James gently kissed her there and Zilpha exhaled.

Zilpha closed her eyes and let herself soften in the swell of his fever. The sensation of his full lips caressing the flesh of her neck, mingled with the breeze swirling around them was intoxicating. She could feel her mind becoming light, even dizzy. She was afraid to open her eyes and meet his, because she didn’t know if she could handle the depth of his focus.

“James…,” she whispered.

At the sound of his own name, he instinctively bit into her sumptuous flesh and she let out a moan, sweet and low.

He began to unbutton her petticoat, so she opened her eyes and placed a hand gently upon his.

“If anyone discovers us we’ll never …”

He abruptly cut her off.

“I want you. Right here and right now, my love. When we were apart all I could think about is holding you, touching you.”

He was pouring himself into her warmth and she felt her heart opening slowly to receive his portion. How could she deny this? Or him?

He continued to slowly unbutton her petticoat. She dared to look at him and felt his gaze peel back her carefully constructed layers of etiquette and manners, reaching the impulsive rivulets of wanting surging beneath.

He bent down and kissed her fervently on her lips and her neck.

She stood up abruptly, quickly unbuttoning and removing her petticoat. She folded it carefully on their other blanket. Off came her camisole and brassiere, her skirt, slip and dainty panties. She stepped forwards towards James, now standing in awe of her and rubbed one of her coral nipples beneath a slight finger. James darted forward and suddenly his hands were caressing her neck, her waist and her back. And his mouth pressed upon her mouth setting sparks alight down her spine and to her sex.

Zilpha tugged at the buttons of his breeches, until they were slowly sliding down his legs. He removed his jacket and his shoes and lastly his workman’s shirt.

They came together tenderly, kissing each other so slowly as to be torturous.

James gently pushed her back onto the blanket and simply took a moment to stare down at her. He wanted to savor this moment in his mind. If he were an artist, he would leave her now to capture her form on a large canvas, deep greens, browns and golds staining his weathered frock, his hair long and unruly, his eyes wild with greedy exuberance.

But instead he was caressing her, wondering how much longer he would have her completely; before life tore a jagged ridge into their story.

He toyed with the succulent space just beneath her breasts, then teased her nipples with his tongue. Zilpha caressed his thick, brown hair, cut short and spiky and flinched when he continued to slowly kiss down her torso and stomach. He hesitated ever so slightly as he reached the mound of her sex. Zilpha’s eyes widened momentarily in silent acquiescence as he gently spread her legs with his eager hands.

James inhaled her scent, amazed at how sweet and musky she was all at the same time. There were a few mornings when she would tease him over breakfast, plucking single grapes from their weakened stems and plopping them into her mouth, letting the juice spill from her lips.

Now was his moment to savor her, tender flesh, sweet juices and all.

He gently kissed her reddened plum, sucking at her clit, then letting the eager tip of his tongue run up and down against it. He’d missed her so very much being away with the Company. Amongst wayward youths, stern headmasters and serious priests where he would never belong. But here, in this patch of grassy earth, between Zilpha’s legs, he was home. Her heart was his compass, her sex, his temple. And he was ready to worship.

He lapped at her tender folds, then separated them, pushing his tongue inside her chasm, circling inside and out and back to her clit again. Zilpha pushed her hips up against his eager mouth, moving in undulating waves, feeling such pleasure that she could no longer contain her cries.

James lifted his head, with the taste of her still on his lips. Seeing Zilpha, awash in sensation, sent a wave of warmth across his own loins.

“Are you mine?” he asked uncertainly.

With her head tossed back, she replied “I am yours my love. Only yours.”

He focused back on her sex, slick and wet, and ravished her flesh, taking long languorous strokes at her folds and her clit, pushing his tongue back inside to taste her yet again. His dick, now severely hard and pulsing could no longer be ignored.

He sat up for a moment causing her to raise her head. She saw his penis, plump and stiff, jutting out from his body like a lance.

“Let me kiss you there,” she whispered.

Now it was his turn to lie down on the blanket. A swift breeze sped through the clearing, wafting the fresh scent of the grass and wildflowers their way. She saw his penis move slightly at the feel of the wind.

She moved slowly towards him, letting her mouth and warm breath hover just over his organ.

“Zilpha, please…”

She waited just a moment. Seeing the desire on his face, his body excitedly ready.

“What do you want?” She was a minx and she loved having control over him in this moment.

“I want you to…”

She put her lips right on top of his head.

“Tell me my love.” Her lusty voice and the warmth of her breath was threatening to drive him wild.

“Please!”

She decided not to make him wait any longer. She drew the bulbous tip of his penis into her mouth and let her lips run halfway down his shaft. She savored his dick, pulling it up and down, moving farther and farther along each time. She placed one hand on his thigh and let the other caress the tender balls that fell beneath. She loved how soft and tender they were. She continued until she could see him begin to jerk. The thought of him coming in her mouth titillated her.

But James blurted out before she could finish him.

“Zilpha, I need to be inside you.”

He was trying to contain himself, breathing harder now and moaning.

She lay back down and he rose slightly above her meeting her with his eyes.

He’d told her about his excursions to brothel with a few fellow cadets. Somehow she hadn’t been surprised. She’d felt inadequate and jealous. But he was here with her now. Wanting her. All of her. She couldn’t ask for more. And she wanted to give herself to him. Completely.

She cradled his head, looking directly into his eyes.

“Yes, my love. Yes,” she whispered.

He steadied himself over her, his manhood in one hand, seeking the wet folds of her slit. Zilpha eyes expanded as his head found her entrance. He watched her as he slowly pressed his weighty cock inside. She was taking slow, measured breaths. He continued to push through until he filled her up with his entire length. He looked at her, waiting for a sign before he moved further.

She felt every delicious part of him, although it seemed as if her insides might split in two. After a few moments, she quickly nodded her head. He pulled back and plunged in and she released a cry, sounding like a wounded animal.

Zilpha had always opened her heart and mind to him. Even when her cold exterior betrayed their truth. Now that Zilpha had opened her body to him, he wanted to cry out.

He moved in and out her slowly at first, and then he could no longer contain any restraint. He thrust deep inside her, moving his hips in wild abandon, excited by moans, not understanding how she could feel this delicious. Lost inside her folds, he could feel her sex warmly squeezing around him, sealing their union, driving him to the point of madness.

She was to him like honey to a bee. Sweet, rich, savory, sumptuous.

“I love you Zilpha!”

He could barely get the words out, overcome by feelings of pure ecstasy.

Now she was moving faster against him. Adjusting to the weight of him, the friction of his cock causing spasms to begin. Some would say that their coming together was an abomination. She didn’t care. His soul was wrapped around hers, her heart beat for him alone.

Zilpha felt his body begin to convulse and she reached down to grab his butt. He began rutting into her faster and faster as the waves overtook him and his warm semen filled her up deep inside. James let out a guttural cry, happy to be free from thin walls and people who could hear.

Zilpha’s pussy contracted sharply around him as her body gave way to its own electric fever. She cried out, louder than he’d ever heard her do. Louder than she ever believed was possible. They continued to move against one another, allowing the convulsive offshoots to continue on their own until they were both left panting and spent.

“James, I love you too!” she moaned back. “Always.”


	7. The Hunter – Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and a few others go on a hunt.

A piercing screech jostled him awake. James was covered in darkness, and a thin layer of sweat. It took a few moments for his night eyes to parse the sparse light in their hut. He could make out the huge cooking pot at the center and Akuba’s bedding, close to the window on the other side. But she was nowhere to be found.

_He’d been dreaming of the Influence. Dark men and women with bright, sorrowful eyes silently pleading with him as he hammered the hull indubitably shut._

_He didn’t usually follow orders, yet he never turned away from his task, meeting their eyes with every pound of his hammer. He had long ago pushed feelings and reasoning away._

The shrill screams rang out in the darkness again, the brassy overtones permeating the air. Each wave of sound felt as if something or someone was dying. Its life-force slowly spilling into the earth.

What kind of creature made sounds that carried this far? By his estimations, whatever is was, was a good two to three miles away. And it was massive.

He wondered where Akuba was. Nothing good could come from roaming the land at this hour.

He slowly rose, jostling about until he found the water pot. He dipped the iron ladle into the water and then held it to his lips. The water was crisp and clean, coolly moving down his throat.

Akuba returned slightly before dawn. The air held a dusky-rose tint, hinting at an impending sunrise.

“I see you’re awake,” she offered.

“Bad dreams. Couldn’t stay there.” His voice was gravely and thick.

She sighed as she lit the kindling beneath the large black pot between them.

“I’ll have some bath water ready shortly. Then breakfast.”

James noticed the fresh wounds on her arms and around her neck.

“Thank you,” he responded. Akuba simply smiled at him.

She usually waited for him to leave the hut for the day before she prepared herself and set about finishing chores. But now, once the water came close to boiling, she stripped down in front of him.

James could see more scrapes and bruises on her dark, almond-colored skin. She didn’t wince once as she applied hot water, mixing in a bathing paste and scrubbed the dirt and sweat away.

He wanted to ask her where she’d been and why she’d been gone all night. He wanted to tell her that a woman out alone in the jungle was never safe. But as they were still learning each other, he held back, scrubbed his own body and tucked all of his questions away for another time.

The tribe was heavily into hunting season when James and Akuba began living together. Although the land was perpetually hot, he could tell that this was something akin to spring. The air was slightly lighter and the breezes plentiful. Clouds wafted the aromatic scent of rain and wildlife seemed to flit about from savannah grass to lake to heavy bush; purposefully energetic. They hunted intermittently throughout the year, of course, but now was the time for large kills.

At this point, he and Akuba lived together in a perfunctory way. In the mornings she ground up a creamy wheat porridge for him, mixing in fresh berries and guava. She cleaned his loin cloths and robes regularly and prepared a daily bath for him, using boiled river water, scented with fresh flowers and essences. She made sure his beddings were clean and each evening, she prepared him a hearty meal from fresh vegetables, rice and whatever meat was available from the latest excursion.

She even prepared body paint for him when he went out with the larger hunting parties; slathering a rich ochre paste all over his face and chest, arms and abdomen. A paste which he’d slowly and carefully lather off himself later that night. He would scrub his skin gently, using a special cloth to wipe himself dry.

James knew she’d had experience with a man before. But she never invited him to share her body, never stared or gasped in the moments when he was naked before her, needing release. He had learned to do without sex while under the tutelage of the akomfo. But now, back amongst people, living, eating and hunting, his most primal appetites had returned stronger than ever.

He promised himself that he would not approach her. Not until she made it known that she was ready. Instead, on nights when he was loneliest, he would pleasure himself and dream of Zilpha, imagining her proper lips moving salaciously up and down his sex. Each time he spilled his milky seed, was a reminder of how Zilpha would receive him, inside her pussy or her mouth, never daring to waste a single ounce.

Sometimes late at night, Akuba would stare out into the tall grass of the savannah, singing a song full of loss and memory. The melody was haunting enough that he would close his eyes, trying to imagine what she had experienced in life thus far. At her most sorrowful tones, he would open his eyes again, taking in the curve of her long brown back as she turned her face out towards the sky. Other nights, when the moon was full and the beast within him rumbled, they would stare at each other amidst a wall of silence. Wondering, waiting, apprehensive, unsure.

Today, James was full of excitement. He had finally been invited to go out on a small hunt, to prove his manhood and his worthiness. He was titillated by the prospect of pursuing big game, allowing his instincts to have full control.

He, and three other young men crept slowly through the brown stalks of grass, their feet slightly gripping the dark, warm soil beneath. Gameli, the oldest and tallest, walked ahead confidently, his spear tucked under his right arm. He was over six feet tall, wiry and stoic. Kofi, followed just behind him, a long-stemmed axe and bows and arrow in tow. He was tall, with bright eyes and a set of pearly white teeth. James and Addai held up the rear, carrying their bow and arrows on their backs. He and James were shorter and more muscular in stature than the other two. Addai, was the first real friend James had made since arriving. Like James, he was quiet and observant and he readily shared his smoking tobacco in the cool early evenings before they went to their separate huts.

The four young men were currently stalking a trio of lionesses. They were certain the great cats would lead them to larger game that could be shared with the entire tribe.

The chief had purposely tasked them with this great responsibility to mark their passageway into manhood. This would bless the tribe with a large cache of meat, skin, bones, oil and fat to use for several more months.

James’ few months with them had been fruitful and eye-opening. He was more and more secure speaking Twi, not having to rely as much on his native English. His minor wounds had long healed and he was happy to forget the past, if just for a little while.

Though their interactions were terse and subdued, he could feel Akuba warming up to him and him to her.

Of course there were moments, late at night or during the heat of the day when he would whisper Zilpha’s name; trying to solidify their connection across thousands of miles. He wanted to still feel her and hear her, even now. For a time, he’d willingly blocked her out of his mind, because their separation felt like a jagged wound in his gut.

He’d readily adopted the long brown robes of the tribe, enjoying their ease of movement. He knew there was a connection to the free flowing feel of their clothing and their general outlook on life. Every event and aspect was to be taken and handled calmly. Their spirits exhibited a grace for whatever came their way.

Today, he and the other young men wore only loin cloths, allowing the least constraints possible.

For several days they tracked the lionesses through moderately high grass. They were sure the majestic creatures knew of their presence, but their immediate attentions seemed to be elsewhere.

The hunting party moved slowly and serenely through the grassy plains. Sunlight rippled down upon them in golden, fluid waves and the air remained eerily still. Eventually they found a small patch of brush in which to settle. It gave them a wide enough vantage point to see and respond to any danger before they were completely overtaken.

They’d been camped out in the brush for a day and a half, following the lionesses’ progression from the jungles, into the brush and then more open clearings. There were three cats, moving slowly but steadily towards the river. Their hope was that the great cats were moving into position ahead of buffalo or antelope, who were known to move from water to water at this time of year.

“I could really use a smoke right now,” James muttered.

“Ahhh, liking the tobacco a little too much. If we smoke, we’ll scare them away,” Addai responded.

James knew Addai was right. Any errant odors would throw their plan completely off. Most animals knew that smoke mingled with humans equaled impending danger.

Gameli had carved off a chunk of nearby tree bark and was whittling himself a small figurine. Off what or whom, James had no idea.

Kofi had been standing watch but had grown slightly bored. He went further into the trees to use the trunks as target practice for his bow and arrow. He was a solid shot, assured and steady. He could reach almost any target within 200 yards, which was impressive to everyone, especially James.

“How much longer do you think we’ll have to wait?,” James asked.

Addai shrugged his shoulders in resigned defeat.

Addai was excited and ready for action. He flicked a miswak stick back and forth in his mouth. Anxiously gnawing on it, secretly wanting a taste of tobacco as well.

James watched the lionesses resting in the grass, panting with open mouths, and taking in the breeze that swept through the clearing. He marveled at their size and musculature. They were as quiet as they were mighty, often coming upon their prey with an unforgiving swiftness.

Their ears were on the alert, but their tails twisted lazily from side to side. The older two felines lay upon the ground, surveying the landscape. The youngest (known simply by her smaller size), paced back and forth behind them, swatting flies away, seeming as antsy as James and Addai.

James decided to get up and join Kofi in shooting arrows at the trees.

They were milling around for what seemed like a few hours.

Then Addai stood up, talking lowly to the others.

“All three are up on their feet now. Something has their attention!”

Gameli, Kofi and James looked intently at their charges, coming back to the edge of the forest to get their weapons and get into position.

The lionesses began to pace back and forth, to and fro, until finally they could hear the impending approach of a herd of …something.

With a jolt the great cats, moved into a patch of higher grass and crouched down intently against the ground. The colors of the area lent itself greatly to their camouflage, as now, the men could barely discern an ear or two against the umber stalks.

Sure enough, in a matter of moments a large herd of water buffalo came running through the clearing. They didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry, but their pace left no time for sauntering.

“Kofi and I will run ahead. James, you and Addai keep pace with the lionesses in the back,” Gameli commanded.

Kofi and Gameli dropped their things at the small camp and took off, running at first amongst the trees and the moving into the open field. They darted ahead, as if propelled by an inner fire, kicking up earth and dust behind them.

The great cats held back, waiting patiently in the tall grass as the buffalo continued their stride through the field. James went out into the grass himself and crouched down.

“What are you doing?” Addai quickened. James could smell the faint aroma of fear wafting off of him.

“Waiting for their cue.”

James felt his own inner beast begin to stir. It had been a very long time since he’d allowed this type of hunger to come to the surface. His skin prickled with goosebumps and the hairs on his arms stood rigidly at attention. His breathing came more slowly and evenly, while his heartbeat seemed to pick up pace. He could feel the surge of blood through his veins at each pulse of the muscle in his chest. He smelled the rank odor of the buffalo as they passed. It was a mixture of sweat and dung, fresh foliage, days of hunger and thirst. So much thirst. He almost envied the simplicity of their existence. Not much to plot or plan, just taking in the weather, moving from water to water. The thought of cool, quenching water aligned with a new thirst in his mouth. Warm, wet blood.

Addai began walking backwards, in the direction of the herd. He kept note of where James and the lionesses were hiding, breathing a bit slower to steady his own heartbeat; allowing the excitement to pulse through him from his chest all the way to his outer limbs.

He saw the ears of one of the cats move just a touch and he called out to James, who was slowly rising from position. Without warning, the largest cat sprung above the stalks, leaping high enough to clamp her mighty claws onto the back of an adult male. The great beast screamed and bucked at the pain of her attack, not anticipating another of her companions leaping to sink its razor-like fangs into his neck.

Without knowing exactly where the third cat was, James sprung up from position and screamed.

“Go!!!”

He and Addai faced forward, sprinting ahead, as the pace of the buffalo increased. Addai let out a guttural cry that was met with a similar response by Gameli. He and Kofi had circled back towards them ready to choose their own unlucky beast.

James had his eye on a large female buffalo with a young calf running alongside of her.

He pulled his bow and arrow tautly, aiming for the calf, striking its tender belly from the back. As the young babe squealed in horror, its mother slowed in hopes to tend to it and that’s when Kofi flung his axe into her neck.

They’d judiciously caught the mother and babe on the side of the herd, avoiding the stampede head-on. Gameli came speedily from her other side, lodging his spear in her neck. This was enough to stop her. She reared up, screaming, trying to ward them off. Addai finished off the calf striking the jugular of its tender neck and then came to meet the others who had now fully circled the larger beast. James saw wild desperation in her eyes as she searched aimlessly for her young one. She roared, pleading and waiting for a response. But there were only the four men facing her. Kofi savagely pulled his spear out from her flesh, then plunged it back in deep beneath the skin.

She ran forward a ways, attempting to escape as the blood heavily seeped out of her neck.

“We can wait her out as long as we stay with her,” Gameli’s voice rang out above all of the mayhem.

They began running forward to keep pace when James heard an unmistakable growl rising behind him.

“Yakobo!”

He wasn’t sure who had called his name, all of his senses were focused on the great cat, as he spun around and saw her staring directly at him.

He should have been frightened, petrified really. But something deep within him burst. All four of his front incisors were now fangs, his fingers burned as steely claws emerged from the tips and his already deep voice magnified into its own monstrous growl. The waves of it rumbled deep from within, reverberating up and out of his throat.

He grimaced, baring all of his teeth at her. He held her steady gaze, frozen in position, sensing her desire to pounce. She realized his utter lack of fear, watched him a few moments longer, then retreated back to her own party.

James leapt forward heading towards his tribesmen and the buffalo, as she began dizzying from loss of blood and staggering in a zig zag pattern.

* * *

 

It took them almost half a day to bring the large beast and her calf, back to the village. So it was the next day, when everyone gathered to celebrate and acknowledge their triumph.

James guessed that it might be Wednesday or Thursday, but in actuality for him, the days had begun to bleed into one another. Here in this corner of Ashantiland, time flowed as calmly and serenely as the pulse of the river. Unlike the West, here, nature determined the order of things; when to hunt, when to plant and harvest, when to name one’s newborn and when to bury one’s dead. His surrender to Mother Earth was refreshing, even sublime. For a time, he wouldn’t fashion plans or schemes. For a small moment of his life, he would BE, as he once had been with Amma.

Four men came forward with large drums, carved from the hollowed-out trunks of nearby Afrormosia trees, covered with tanned buffalo skins, stretched tightly across their tops. One man pounded out a musical coda, and then the other three joined him, establishing an intoxicating rhythm. The bass drum kept the simplest of rhythms while the other drummers syncopated their rhythms in and around his steady flow.

They were all there, young and old, craftsmen and warriors, parents, children and elders. James smiled at their finery. They unashamedly wore bright gold earrings, bracelets, noise piercings and anklets. Each of them adorned in their finest robes and dresses, bright shades of orange, burgundy, green gold and black intermixed against their dark skin. It was unusual and strange to say the least. His peers back home would salivate over this display of wealth. Plenty of European travelers described African natives as little more than savages, but he knew that this only hinted at the true amount of wealth and security they possessed. This moment was not about boasting for them. It was simply a celebration of this joyous occasion.

He knew that the Ashanti often traded gold with the British and the Portuguese for a bounty of guns and gunpowder. Yet they hadn’t displayed any heavy weaponry in front of him as well. For a brief moment, he wondered why.

The chief came forward, dressed in a fine purple robe, a crown, decorated with Akan symbols around his head, and golden jewelry decorating his neck and the double rungs of his leather sandals.

“We are gathered here today to honor the newest warriors of our tribe. They have shown great bravery and strength, blessings us with the gift of a mighty buffalo. Step forward Gameli, Kofi, Addai and Yakobo (James).”

As each of the men came forward they were approached by someone who first placed a necklace of cowrie shells around their necks and then wrapped a colorful robe around their shoulders.

Gameli and Kofi’s wives came forward for them. Addai’s mother gifted him a necklace and robe and for James there was Akuba. She had sewn a brand new, intricately patterned robe just for this occasion. He couldn’t help but smile as she slipped the orange, gold and green robe around him.

“As they cross the threshold into manhood, may these warriors remain brave and strong. In this life and most certainly in the afterlife!”

The people’s voices rose high in cheers and celebratory yelps. They were swaying as the drums rose in fervor.

“Let us also officially welcome Yakobo _(James)_ to the family. Our brother, brought to us across the Mighty Sea. Now that he’s proven his manhood, introduce yourselves to him in your way!”

The chief, with his large rotund form was smiling at James.

At this command the villagers encircled the four men, swaying to the rhythm of the drums, threatening to break out into song and dance.

Each clan stepped forward to introduce themselves, smiling, beating their chests and moving to the rhythmic pulse of the drum masters.

Men and women from the bull clan, the dog clan, the bat clan and the clan of the crow shouted their welcomes to him and their thanks for the bounty the warriors brought back to the village.

They carved up the mighty beasts into several large sections, preparing the skin, removing the horns, sectioning off large slabs of meat and cleaning out their organs. But the prize to be taken that day was the large muscular heart. This was reserved only for the four. He and the other three young men stood around the hearth as the heart was torn from the animal’s chest, waved into the sacred smoke of the large cooking pot, cut into pieces and given to each of them.

James had never tasted raw meat. Didn’t know if his stomach could digest such a thing. But he wanted to have this experience. He tore a piece off with sharp teeth, letting the blood coat his lips and run down his chin, chewing each morsel thoroughly. He could feel the essence of the mighty bull leaving its organ and seeping into his own system. Blood ritual. He’d heard of such things, now he was living it. Ingesting it. Gaining power and wisdom from it. This was the ultimate sign of conquest.

He awakened again in the middle of another night, hearing unfamiliar voices and people scurrying in the dark.

_He’d been dreaming about home and Her. Their last summer together, he’d been insatiable, taking her at every free moment. Now, as his heart reached out into the ether, she was hidden from him. There were clouds masking his sight and it made him heavy with sorrow._

_He hoped she could forgive his abrupt departure. He hoped she’d found a good husband who gave her a comfortable, happy life. He hoped most of all to one day see her again and rekindle all that had been lost._

It sounded as if there had been a drastic commotion elsewhere that finally settled, once whomever was outside returned to the village. And they weren’t trying to be inconspicuous. He didn’t immediately recognize anyone’s voice until he heard Prah amongst them.

“Take him to the grove and keep him bound ‘til I get there. We’ll see what the usurper has to say for himself.”

He could hear the mumblings of a man who was most certainly bound and gagged.

James was intrigued, but not enough to get up and actually see what was going on.

He rolled over, deciding to drift back off to the relative safety of his night visions. Maybe She would meet him there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can contact me here on my [tumblr](http://dbshawnblog.tumblr.com/)


	8. The Hunter – Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and others travel to Kumasi

_May 16, 1815_

_My dearest James,_

_I don’t know where to send this, so I’ll write at my desk and store this letter amongst my personal things. I have no clue where you’ve landed or even if you’re still alive. And I can’t comfortably ask Father, with the way things stand._

_When you left, I cried endlessly. For weeks it seems. It felt as if a piece of me had been ripped from my chest, leaving me hollow and empty. Intellectually, I should abhor what we have become. What we did. But I can’t help myself. We’re connected in the most natural and effortless of ways. You and I feel as inevitable as the creeping of spring upon the disintegrating days of winter._

_In my careful and composed state, I see that I am not meant for the suffocating structure of London or English society. Indeed, I am a caged bird. My song remains incomplete until I fly freely with you in the wild._

_In my daydreams, you now roam your beloved India, fighting in provincial wars or digging in mines for jewels and treasure hidden by the ages. I hope whether in a maharaja’s palace, a Bhuddist temple or a hidden village, deep within the jungle, that you taste all of the flavors and wonders that life has to offer._

_Father makes every effort to present me to eligible bachelors. As much as I seek to comply, I know their affections can never truly hold my attention. You have opened the door to a sacred room within me and I am forever changed._

_There’s an added reason I am resistant to the affections of another man. I would write it here, if I knew for certain you could read this. It’s large and frightening and yet oh so wondrous James; something I wish you and I could share together, in the dream palace we built so long ago. For now, I hold this secret close to my heart until you return._

_We should pay penance to God and Father, for our transgressions; pray prayers of forgiveness and repentance. But as my heart can never hold true to that purpose, I now utter a single prayer. It is solely one long provocation that will bring you back and into my arms._

_Loving and needing you,_

_Zilpha_

* * *

 

James hadn’t forgotten what he’d overheard. In fact, he was certain they’d made sure for him to hear. A man, taken to the grove, and presumably held captive. For what reason? His curiosity was scratching at the edges of his brain.

But today, a group of men and women were traveling to the capital for trade. Addai had urged James to come along. Even Akuba was coming, as she had plenty of handmade robes and jewelry to sell.

Outside of hunting, most of James’ days were now consumed with learning the skills of woodcraft and metallurgy. He enjoyed the focus and concentration these skills required. Taking unrefined chunks of wood or ore from the earth and slowly chiseling, crafting and defining them into tools, musical instruments and jewelry. He’d spent plenty of time wielding weapons with the Company, but learning to create them was something more satisfying altogether. It turned out, the Ashanti had a glorious history as artists and warriors. As he solidified his craft, he was blessed to learn a new facet of this integration into their everyday life.

They walked almost two miles through the brush to main road that would take them directly to Kumasi. It was a five hour trek altogether, but the fresh air and the company kept James invigorated along the way.

Kumasi, the Ashanti capital, lay approximately 25 kilometers northwest of the village. This was home to large open air markets, beautiful temples and the sumptuous home of the **Asantehene** , the Ashanti King. While many of his Company members had studied the Gold Coast extensively, James had only studied the major port cities of West Africa. Yet here he now was in this land of riches and conquest, immersed in a culture so vastly different from his own.

After taking a couple of hours to rest, recharge and eat a late morning meal, their group spent the rest of the afternoon setting up a makeshift stand in the Market Square, to sell wares. The women separated from the men at a stand nearby. James stayed with Addai, helping him sell the steel blades and daggers they had so proudly fashioned together in their workshop. They would later use their earnings to purchase rifles, handguns and plenty of gunpowder from the lone European merchants scattered about. James laughed to himself about this small irony. If he’d remained in Cabinda, such a purchase would remain mundane. Now it seemed a major event, since their village was isolated from other large groups of people.

James felt the stares of the other white men upon him. Their eyes were wide with astonishment at his presence. Dressed in Ashanti garb, speaking in Twi and behaving as if he was unaware of his heritage. He averted his eyes, ignoring their audible whispers. Addai assured him that their manners weren’t any better for natural born Ashanti. James assured Addai that he’d lost any concern for respectability long before he ever landed in this part of the world.

It wasn’t until he heard the men taunting Akuba that he felt a sliver of anger rising in his chest.

“How much do you charge?” he heard the short one ask. The question would have been innocent, but instead of picking up one of the robes she had laid carefully laid upon the table in front of her, he was feeling the cloth of her own robe. And conveniently rubbing the skin on her chest, moving his fingers closer and closer to her breasts.

“I bet she’d give you a discount if you bought a couple of her robes and her trinkets,” the tall, disheveled one responded. His hair stuck up all over his head, his uniform was disheveled and his eyes were red enough to relay his ongoing drunkenness. They were more than likely military, Special Forces, sent to establish a British outpost in the region. Far from home, they were also eager to have quality time with the softer sex.

James was certain that Akuba understood their true intentions. He could see her eyes shifting from side to side with nervousness.

Before any of them knew what was happening, James slipped a beautifully carved dagger from the table and held it against the neck of the shorter gentleman. He stood behind him hovering, but his eyes were securely on Akuba.

“ **Wuhia mmoa a wode?”** _(Do you need help?)_ , he asked her softly. The arc of the steel fit snugly against the man’s neck. James wanted nothing more than to split the skin at his trachea.

She glanced at him, with a trace of awe.

“I’m fine. Men like this want to share a woman for the night. I’m too tired to entertain them both,” she answered in Twi.

James smirked at her obvious sarcasm. She had never been low energy since he’d met her. He knew if she so desired, she could accommodate them easily. The thought of this sent a surge of energy down his spine. The fact that they’d disrespected her quelled that tingle quickly.

“I meant no…no, true disrespect. I was simply admiring her work.” James had no doubt now that these men were English.

The taller man slipped a few gold coins from his pocket and dropped them on the table.

“Here’s something for your trouble. If your friend can, ah, remove his dagger from my companion’s neck, we’ll be on our way. Swiftly.”

Although the tall man had a pistol on him, he caught a glimpse of Addai, who had surreptitiously grabbed a pistol of his own and was pointing it directly at _his_ chest.

James kept his eyes on Akuba and didn’t back away until she nodded swiftly.

Addai held his pistol firmly in his hand until the man were safely away. James returned to his side, slipping the dagger back onto their table.

“They taunt our women as if it means nothing. And it’s most certainly **not** about wanting her for the night,” Addai said angrily.

James already had an idea of what they were really after.

He watched the two men walk swiftly towards the road that ran along the edge of the market. He had memorized their faces, just in case.

* * *

 

They decided to camp just outside of Kumasi for the night. This gave them time to properly pack up their wares, secure their money, and eat a nice filling meal before the trek back in the morning. As their group settled down, post-dinner, some people settled by the small fire that was still burning. A few talked and laughed about the adventures of the day, others settled into an early sleep, and a few more slipped away from camp for more “spirited” activities.

When James saw Akuba move deeper into the dusk, he decided to follow her. He had no real reason to do so. Except for curiosity.

Akuba had always been helpful and cordial with James. But after the kill of the bull, she changed towards him. Her tense body softened and she walked with more reverence around him. She would beam anytime he wore the robe she’d made for him. When he met her gaze, she would shyly turn away. In spite of seeming shy she was intrigued by him. And possibly aroused. He couldn’t always tell.

He found her standing naked in a stream close to their encampment. She was washing the remnants of the day away.

Her back was turned away from him, but she knew he was approaching.

She stopped bathing for a minute, turning her head to one side, letting the rivulets of water run down her slender back.

“You don’t have to stand there, staring. You can join me if you like.”

James flung off his clothes, marching towards her and she turned around to face him. He was taken by her beauty in that moment. Something he hadn’t witnessed fully until that moment.

“Thank you for today,” she said warmly as he approached.

He was standing directly in front of her now. Taking in her bountiful breasts, the curve at her waist and the worlds spinning deep within her tawny eyes.

He reached out to touch her face, almost by instinct, and kissed her fervently. She flinched for a second. And then she responded to him. Enjoying the feel of his full lips against hers and the tickle of his tongue as it entered her mouth.

“I simply wanted to keep you safe.”

His words were earnest and true. She held her head down slightly and smiled at the notion of him protecting her. At some point he would know her. More intimately. And she wondered if his desire to protect her would remain.

She shook off the thought and doused him with water from the stream.

They washed the dust and sweat of the day away in silence and then moved back to a soft patch of low grass, where they’d left their clothes.

By now, the last layer of sunlight hovered low against the horizon. The air was splattered with mauve, purple and bluish flecks and the hum of hidden crickets rose against the silence.

They sat for a few moments, allowing the temperate air to evaporate the drops of water on their skin. Then she lay down upon her robe, spread out against the willing Earth and offered her body to him. He dropped down beside her, slightly surprised, but hungry. He pushed himself inside of her, thrusting slowly until his erection was full and tight and his desire spilled over.

Afterwards they got dressed, walked back to camp and slept soundly next to one another until the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can contact me here on my [tumblr](http://dbshawnblog.tumblr.com/)


	9. The Hunter – Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James makes a discovery in the forest past the fetish grove.

Morning meals. Metallurgy. Midday hunts. Post-dinner tobacco.

This was the architecture of his days.

Until he entered the grove.

The fetish grove was a sacred place, in a patch of jungle just beyond Yasi. There, a moderate thatched hut stood and inside was a carved wooden altar with food, flowers, water and herb offerings to the gods. A mildly amused observer might pass this off as the quaint manifestations of a scattered religion.

Behind the hut were carefully crafted fires burning in shallow pits of dirt. The bodies of the most sacred dead were woven into the tapestry of the branches and limbs of the trees nearby. Ancestral relics on display.

And a few yards beyond that, was a man hoisted up among the tree limbs. Alone. He was very white and very dirty. A patch of formerly rich red hair, clung to his head in an unctuous mix of sweat and grime. His skin was scarred and marked with several days-worth of mange. And his once crisp, pristine clothes were shred in so many places one could imagine he'd wandered the jungle for weeks before finding another soul.

"Who is it? Who goes there?" The man's nervous voice called out into the undergrowth.

James stood surreptitiously against a mahogany tree. He was just enough inside the periphery of a shadow, head bowed, blending into the background. Yet the man still knew someone was there.

"I'm the one who's bound and captured. You might as well show yourself."

James listened intently. The man's dialect was beyond his knowledge and this surprised him.

He stood still for a moment longer, before lifting his head and stepping into a swath of sunlight sifting between the foliage.

The man grunted, eyes wide with shock. Then he started laughing.

"What are you supposed to be? A threat? Spy? Double-agent, maybe?"

James was walking slowly towards him now, the steel of his dagger sitting against the right side of his chest. He looked at this white man the way he imagined some of the villagers had looked at him months ago: with restrained curiosity.

"Are you a bloody Englishman? Perhaps a curious Frenchman or a Dutchman or even **ein händler aus Deutschland** (a German trader)? Lone white man gone native?"

James stopped and glared at him before he spoke.

"For someone bound in a tree, you certainly have a lot to say." James' deep bass was a shock to the man's system. Suddenly he was still and alert.

"Ahhhhhh. An Englishman. My instincts were right all along."

"Not enough to keep you from landing here."

James looked up at him, allowing half of his mouth to turn upwards in a smirk.

"…how came you to this place Mister…"

"You can call me Valentine"

"Mister Valentine. How is it you find yourself tied to a tree, deep in Ashanti territory?"

"Maybe I was deserted by my party…and got lost."

"I'm not so sure of your accent but you're most certainly a Westerner. Which means you're three hundred years too late to use **lost** as an excuse."

Looking at Valentine, James could tell he was hungry and parched and ready to be anywhere else. But something else was driving him. James offered him water from the pouch that hung from his belt. He gulped greedily letting a small stream fall from his lips to his chest.

"Maybe my aims aligned with yours. Before you chose to go tribal. And forget your true nature." Valentine wiped his mouth sloppily with his forearm, transferring dirt from one place on his body to another.

"It would be nothing for me to cut you down and slit your tempestuous throat."

James looked up at him, grinning slyly. He imagined himself watching rivulets of deep crimson flow down Valentine's neck, his still mouth formed in the shape of a last desperate "Oh!"

"But you won't. Because there's gold here. Mountains of it."

"I'm not here for gold." James took the pouch from him and drank as well.

"Enough to buy kings. Hell, a country, if you so desire. Amass a fortune and raise your station…"

James stared quizzically at the man. Valentine was fishing and he was in no mood to be bait.

"Neither I nor greater powers that be have…what was your name again?"

"James."

"None of us have your strength of fortitude James. Strategy and conquest. That is the way of this world."

James could hear the rhythms of the talking drums all the way from the center of the village. The men were beating them at a frenetic pace, the bass and treble rhythms gaining speed at every measure. He wasn't even supposed to be here now.

James placed his water pouch at his waist, rubbed the dagger at his chest and simply walked back towards the village.

"Wha-where are you going?" Valentine hadn't imagined his disinterest or the fact that he had other tasks to complete.

James looked back at him and spoke.

"Your strategy will simply have to wait Valentine. Until we meet again."

Of course James wanted to know much, much more. But he was satisfied for now. Let him simmer. Let the pieces slowly come together. James had all the time in the world.

He didn't see the slight grin that emerged on Valentine's face.

* * *

 

By the time he sprinted back to Yasi, the villagers were in a commotion. There were several women crying and the chief was yelling instructions to a few of the warriors. His rotund body moved at a rapid pace, back and forth between villagers, the golden fringes of his deep purple robes, darting like flecks of light.

James approached Kofi, who gathered his axe and was packing his things. He didn't even get a chance to ask the question.

"Something or some thing took Frema's twin girls, but no one saw or heard a sound. They were playing outside while Frema made dinner. She turned to mix her stew and when she turned back they were gone. Vanished."

"What are you going to do?" The heightened state of the village made James anxious. He wanted to help.

"A group of us will wander the perimeter of the jungle. See if we can find any animal tracks or pieces of clothing." Kofi seemed calm, but his eyes grew wild with a fear James had never seen.

"I can come. Help you look for clues. If it was a beast, we can track it. I have the nose for that kind of thing."

"Fine. Meet me back here. The others are leaving now, we'll follow behind."

Kofi turned his head in the direction of Frema and James turned to look as well. She was young, in her twenties, but she wailed and beat at her chest as if she'd lived through ages. Her husband Safo, at least ten years her senior, hugged her from behind, his massive arms encircling her waist as she strained to break free.

James noticed Akuba watching the entire scene from the entrance of their hut. She didn't turn away quickly enough to hide the tears swimming down her face.

He raced inside, thinking to get a spear but instead picked up a rifle he'd purchased on one of their trips. One could never be too prepared.

* * *

 

James and Kofi caught up with the others and then split off going East while the larger party went West and South. James caught the faintest whiff of jojoba oil mixed with something rank and wild. But the odor left no trail. Instead, the scent seemed to linger, floating above them for a time and then dissipating into the thick of the summer night air.

When they returned to Yasi, the sun had set and most everyone had settled inside. There were a small group of older women and men praying together outside and there were people streaming in and out of Frema's hut, bringing small bowls of food, drink and fresh flowers.

James could hear Frema still sobbing inside. His gut told him something very unnatural had occurred. He couldn't name or define it yet. But he knew.

Inside their hut, he and Akuba ate dinner in silence. She'd made a rich stew full of vegetables and antelope meat with rice and even in the heat, the warm mixture felt soothing in his belly. When they finished, he grabbed a fresh wad of tobacco to smoke. Akuba went back to their entranceway, watching as Frema's visitors disappeared to their own homes.

She seemed lost in her own thoughts, so it shocked him when she turned to him and spoke.

"There is no pain like that of losing a child."

In the spreading darkness, her eyes were like burgeoning headlights. He wanted to go to her and wrap his arms around her. Instead, he watched her as she prepared herself for bed. There was a wound there he wouldn't dare open.

* * *

 

That night, he fell in to a deeper sleep than usual.

_Some of them were screaming. Begging for their lives in languages he would never understand. Some were silently staring past him, knowing their end had come. But she spoke softly to him, mouth unturned, eyes aglow. She couldn't have been much older than he was. Her skin was creamy brown, her coiled hair sprouted wildly away from her head. He knew she was young, because her breasts sat defiantly forward on her chest, nipples puffy and abdomen slenderly coiled down to her loincloth. She wasn't' afraid or panicked. In fact she seemed unnaturally calm. He held the hammer in one hand, eyes transfixed on her._

_She reached up towards him with a slender hand and he bent down close, took that hand and pulled her face as close to his as possible._

_She leaned into him and kissed him fully on the mouth, opening her lips when she felt the tingle of his tongue._

_At first, she tasted of cacao, sweet and earthy, then he detected something briny and metallic, He jumped back, startled and she burst into a deep-throated laugh. His tongue was pierced open, the ruby red blood slow dripping out down his lips._

" ** _Odo ye owu Yakobo. Odo ye owu."_** _(Love is death James. Love is death.)_

_He grabbed the thick, sturdy nails from his side and proceeded to seal the hull._

_There were screams and moans from below; a melancholy hymn sung by the collective. But when he dared to look back at her, he was staring no longer at a defiant slave. But HER. Wily, defiant Zilpha. Her dress was long and black and ripped at the waist. She continued to smile at him and began to laugh. Her cackle was an insane and ominous thing._

" ** _Odo nyera fie kwan! It won't be long before you see!"_** _(Love does not miss its way home!)-_

_Zilpha's voice was piercing his mind, stinging his cranium, causing him to shiver as fat tear droplets banked on his eyelids and then swam down his chiseled cheeks._

* * *

 

In the middle of the week, he, Addai and Kofi were sent to bring back a horde of gold to the village to be reworked into objects that could be sold weeks later in Kumasi. The chief made no secret of his desire to amass as many weapons as possible. Foreigners from the West, ostensibly trading in the area was the cursory layer. It didn't take much perception for those aware to feel that the more vulgar layers yet to come. James had no need for perception. He knew first hand where the machinations of greed led. Strategy and conquest, he'd said. The silent beginnings and the violent ends.

Today they walked in a northeasterly direction, a mile or so. They left their village clearing, traversed a short ways through the jungle, following an upward slope of the land until they arrived at a level clearing. Walking a short distance north, they came to the edge of the greenery. Below them sat a massive lake. It's bluish waters tranquil. Bids and wildlife dancing and hovering all around them in delight.

"What is this place?," James asked. The energy of this place felt ancient and deep. The weight of the air changed as they approached the lake. There were electric sparks moving through the tiny hairs on the back of James' neck.

"Bosumtwe. Our most sacred lake. Some say water spirits collected here to protect ancient wildlife from the hunt. Others say the old gods left treasure deep beneath the water Evidence of their arrival and their ultimate return.

James' eyes were fixed on the on the bluish green waters below. He could hear the faint sighs of…something around them.

They took a curved path down the hillside and there, just above the lakeside were villagers panning for gold from the ruddy earth. They had grown efficient scooping handfuls of soft, crumbly dirt into parts, slipping them swiftly into the water and then shaking vigorously to release the water and debris and any remaining gold nuggets.

This place was fertile and they had probably just started mining here in the last few weeks.

The group of mostly women had amassed a nice size of gold deposits that would need to be carried back to the village, which is why the men had been summoned.

Back in the village, the time had come for James to use his skills to work with gold; weapons, ornaments, jewelry and headpieces.

Before he'd held no curiosity or fascination with the metal. But now, melting it down, eyeing the golden river that poured into the molds, slightly cooling before rounds of reforging, he began to understand how men became mad before its radiance. And he remembered Valentine.

To the Ashanti, gold was opulence and illumination and wealth. A physical manifestation of the fiery orb in the sky that sustained everything around them. There was no need to lust for it, crave it, and become silent at the wonder of it. It was as much a part of their fabric as fruit from the tree or water from the river.

James had read about gold deposits found somewhere in the south of France. But he imagined that their bounty was nothing compared what lay beneath the earth here in Ashantiland. The small amounts he'd been allowed to see could have purchased an entirely new fleet of ships for the East India. Of that he was certain. There were probably enough ores here to inlay most of the palace of Versailles in due time.

In the days that followed Akuba retreated into her shell. She still made robes, dresses and jewelry. Still made their meals and kept the hut clean. But she was always, persistently somewhere else. Reliving another life while presumably going about this present one.

It wasn't difficult to notice that the younger women avoided Akuba. They held a silent wad of fear in their mouths when she passed by; laughing amongst themselves. The older women worked with and around her. But they were cautious in their dealings, frequently whispering when she went to fetch fresh water or gather more of their supplies.

Many of the tribe's men, however, looked at her longingly, leaving plenty of space for their lust to sift through the air. James felt a mixture of jealousy and pride as they stared longingly at her body; her small waist, curvy hips and long muscular legs sent their imaginations into a frenzy. She and James most certainly weren't married. But it was clear that they were together. And Akuba never gave him pause to feel slighted.

On Sundays, their veritable day of rest, he watched enviously as women gently washed, dried, oiled and braided the hair of their lovers, husbands, family members. He knew he had no right to expect this from her. So it made him smile inwardly, when she carefully washed his hair with her mix of soaps and herbs, allowing it time to dry in the sun. And then sitting behind him, outside of their hut, she carefully and patiently braided it into tightly woven cornrows, his scalp tingling. His hair would need to be unbraided and washed much sooner than the others. But he appreciated her effort.

He was warmed by how much she had opened herself to him. He couldn't find the right words to pierce this new wall between them. And so he respected her silence.

One morning, after a night of vigorous congress, he awakened to find her still in his arms. Her head cradled softly in the fold of his neck, an arm flung across his chest. He watched her as she slept, happy that at least for now, she had a long moment of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can contact me here on my [tumblr](http://dbshawnblog.tumblr.com/)


	10. The Hunter – Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A child is still missing and James goes back near the fetish grove.

The steady dis-ease surrounding Yasi shattered when the body of two year-old Abina was found.

 

In regular fashion, a village dairy farmer led his cattle slightly east from Yasi to graze in the low grass. He wanted to properly milk them over the next few days to last the villagers until the next heavy round of hunting brought in a large provision of meat. He brought his herd to a calm clearing and as they lazily munched away, swatting flies with their tails, he found a sturdy mahogany tree behind which to relieve himself. It was when he stepped from behind the tree trunk to return to them that he saw the plump fist, between blades of grass, still clinging to a small broken tree branch.

 

Moving in closer, he gasped. Only her head and upper torso remained. Her tiny face was contorted in what must have been her final, agonizing moments. Her eyes held white streaks, registering her terror and her mouth was open wide, the echoes of an icy scream ready to spiral from her throat.

 

The farmer immediately retrieved his satchel, finding a piece of cloth in which he usually wrapped his smallest tools and gently folded Abina's body inside of it. Then he made his way back to Yasi.

 

The cows complacently watched him leave. But once he returned, the villagers knew something was very wrong. Firstly, he'd returned midday without his livestock. And secondly, he came running at a frantic pace. This was a man who wasn't known for running anywhere, even when his own life was under threat.

 

The chief called Safo into his hut where the agitated farmer waited, cradling little Abina in his arms.

 

Soon after a group of men, including James went back to the place of the low grass to see exactly where the body had lain. They searched in many directions for clues but there were none so far as they could tell. No animal tracks, no patches of dried blood in the dirt or grass and no carrion flying above to point them in a promising direction.

 

Only James was able to detect a faint odor wafting in the air. A rank scent similar to the one he smelled the day the girls went missing. This was out of the realm of wild game that roamed the brush and the jungle. Something far different and more sinister. And James was determined to find what it was.

 

* * *

It may have been curiosity or plain restlessness that found James making his way again in silence, along the edge of the village, past the fetish grove. The reason this strange man was kept captive had been scratching at his brain. From where had he come and why was he alone?

 

James' own experiences had taught him that outside of catastrophe or acts of God, European men never traveled alone here.

 

If his superiors hadn't chosen to sink their ship and leave him to die with those slaves, James would have landed in Antigua, either traveling into the vastness of South America or heading northwest through the uncharted territories of the great New Continent. It was only by luck or grace that he'd survived the sunken craft and been brought to Yasi.

 

He was certain the Company had by now, listed him as dead and sent word via dispatch to his father. He imagined Horace reading said letter, pursing his serious lips and then folding the paper crisply into thirds, before filing it away with his important papers. There would be no tears, no melancholy remembrances, only a stern resignation that a minor chapter of his life had closed. And then a dutiful turn back to business.

 

When he thought about Her and how she would receive the news, however, his heart sank. Outwardly, Zilpha would remain stoic and proper, stepping dutifully in her assured role as a wife. But in her most quiet and private moments? She would rend the fabric of her dress and scratch paint from the walls, wailing in an upper bedroom, while her servants went about their daily chores. She would sip too much wine after dinner and spread her legs wide for her husband, fucking him with a zealous fervor, hoping he would pound her flesh into oblivion. She would pray for his soul. Or maybe she'd pray for her own demise, believing naively they would be reunited. He couldn't think too deeply of her pain because then he too would become lost. And right now, he needed all of his wits and cunning.

 

He came upon Valentine directly, slowly chewing on a miswak stick, shaking thoughts of the past away. Valentine was still bound to the tree, but now he wore only a loin cloth and was somewhat cleaner than when James first saw him. Someone had allowed him the consideration of a bath and possibly the pleasure of a smoke or two.

 

Valentine's shock-red hair still stood atop his head in spiky peaks but instead of a five o'clock shadow, he had a reddish-brown beard growing wildly around his chin. In some other scenario, he could have been a sage come from isolation to share a good word. But here he was captive.

 

"Ahhhhh James. So good to you see this fine evening. I'm afraid you're too late for afternoon tea."

 

James smirked at his passive-aggressiveness. If not for his strange accent, he would have sworn this was a fellow Englishman.

 

"In a spirited mood, I see," James responded. "Especially for one who must be delayed from his affairs. I wonder, is there anyone looking for you? Someone we could inform of your current condition?"

 

James looked up at him, letting the edges of his mouth turn upward into a slight smile. He knew desire and he knew ambition and this man was teeming with both. For what exactly, was another matter indeed.

 

"Oh my sweet, surly Englishman. I expect better of you than to taunt a fellow adventurer. You don't strike me as a man bent towards pettiness." There was a slight glimmer in Valentine's eyes. He was enjoying the exchange.

 

James pulled out a pouch from beneath his robe. Inside was a ripe and juicy papaya he'd brought from his hut. He pulled out a pocket knife from the belt of his robe, swiftly cut the papaya in two and then made smaller horizontal cuts the other way to render juicy cubes, ready for plucking.

 

He stepped much closer to Valentine, offering up the fleshy fruit. In truth, he wanted Valentine to see the whites of his eyes. Always an important gesture. To look a man in the eye and determine his quality.

 

The ginger-haired man bound in the tree was hesitant, but not enough to resist this cool treat in the sweltering heat.

 

James spit out his miswak stick and plopped a few pieces of papaya in his own mouth. Sweet and heavenly. He wondered why fruit never tasted this delicious to him as a boy.

 

"What is it you want Valentine? You wouldn't be bound in a tree unless you'd committed some sort of violation. I might convince the others to release you."

 

Every man had to weigh his options. James knew this all too well.

 

Valentine chewed his sweet morsels of fruit, grateful for the moisture. He wiped his brow and slanted his fiery eyebrows.

 

"Believe it or not James, this isn't about me. The world is forged by conquerors…"

 

"And men who sell their souls, deceiving the conquered," James interrupted.

 

"I'm a man of capital. When money moves, so do I." Valentine said this as matter-of-factly as one would say their name.

 

James produced another pouch. This one was made of leather and much denser than the first. He untied its ribbon, carefully pulling the edges back to reveal several large chunks of gold. Although not as shiny as a finished piece of jewelry, the shimmer of the gold nuggets illuminated by the remaining sunlight caught Valentine's attention. He squirmed just a bit as if wanting to get closer to get a better look.

 

"Now you simply tease me," he said softly.

 

"I don't indulge in games much. But these could assist a man like you, yes? Especially once you're free."

 

Valentine reached hastily for the nuggets but James astutely pulled back his hand, raising his other hand to issue a forefinger of warning.

 

"Ah, ah, ahhhh. Something this precious requires an exchange sir. Speak to me of conquest and crafty plans made in dark quarters."

 

James remembered the sound of breaking wood and the voluminous gulps of water swooshing in and all around him. It had only been the voice of Amma that had kept his lungs from filling to the brim.

 

"And in return?" Valentine hesitated in anticipation.

 

James had been living in a temporary bliss here in this small unassuming village. He'd allowed himself time to forget the machinations of the outside world. But he knew greedy men could never satiate their lust for more land, gold, and power. So he took a gamble.

 

"In return I'll find you passage away from here."

 

The two men stared at each other for a moment. Neither one knowing whether to trust the other. Both weighing the risks and the rewards of this small exchange of faith. In fairness, James had so much less to lose. If he set Valentine free and Prah discovered it, he could be removed from Yasi. But he desperately wanted to get this man's angle and only a promise this enticing could yield useful information.

 

Valentine was bathing in a pool of his own secrets. Every room of his heart housed a secret chamber of ambition. He'd learned this was the only way for a man to truly make progress in the world. He'd watched his father, a humble cobbler work himself ragged until yellow fever took him to an early grave and left his mother with three young mouths to feed. While she remained single, their food provisions would become so low that his mother would resort to ingesting doses of salt to calm her aching stomach and ration out the pitiful remnants of food to her children. Luckily she'd been young enough and desirable enough to catch the eye of an ambitious silk merchant. He took a special interest in Valentine and teaching him the ways of business, travel, banking and investments before Valentine left his small town in the south of Spain to sail the world with pirates. Valentine fancied himself a European, but in truth, through his mother, he was a Berber. His mother had married his father, a Portuguese man and they'd settled in Andalusia to create their life. He wasn't surprised that James couldn't "make him" although he was certain he'd tried.

 

"Imagine the world as a chess game. Familiar pieces fighting for the same crown or treasure; moving into strategic positions. And you're so mesmerized by how commonplace it all is that you forget to imagine there may be new players. With new desires. Who have the foresight never to approach the board." Valentine's words spun from his mouth effortlessly. In another life, he and James would possibly be friends; but would certainly be associates. Here was a man who had the drive to make a name for himself in the world. 'Twas a shame they couldn't scheme together.

 

"Silent players. How would one find them? Determine their plans?" James was curious now and felt a tiny bit of the Company's lust rise within him.

 

"No player is ever truly silent, young James. To find a spider, one must first seek its web.

 

"Hmm," James grunted. He'd heard whispers of shadow organizations moving throughout Europe. He had no doubt that some of those rumors were true. Valentine held a lot more meat to him than one would assume. Possibly enough for a lifetime.

 

Valentine continued. "Imagine the world as the Parthenon. Vast and mighty. We are the ones who refashion it. A meshwork of informational and monetary support to make a new world, a new power possible." His skin became slightly flush as he spoke to James.

 

"Where would a man such as myself find his network? If I were to desire contact to forge this new world?"

 

"If you were ready to say, shed this village life and scatter the **fifteen puzzle** , you would find yourself back in the breadth of the civilized world and you would speak the words to let those who know help you find us. We're nowhere and everywhere. We are legion."

 

"And you would help me locate these men? Out of the kindness of your captive heart?" James smacked his lips and let out a laugh.

 

"I would help you avoid the massacre that most certainly will come to this place. You're sharp and you're keen James. But you haven't your hand on the paring knife."

 

Now, James thought to himself, we finally move closer to the sticking point. James stared at the man coolly, watching beads of sweat swim down the side of his face. Valentine was thirsty for many things but this pouch of gold was at the top of the list.

 

Valentine continued. "I wonder about you James. In a sleepy village, surrounded by riches, playing tribal warrior, while empires reposition themselves. A man like you could make a fortune." James wasn't leaping at the bait as he'd hoped. It was causing him more irritation than any of the rope that pressed against his flesh.

 

James could feel tiny hairs raise up on the back of his neck. His animal was rising and ready and wanting to pounce. But this was not a case for his most physical self. He needed the patience of a lion; steady and assured. James smiled inwardly. He could wait on this man for an eternity. It truly wouldn't phase him at all.

 

James cocked his head to one side and spoke. "The words my friend. I need them."

 

**"To find a treasure burrowed, a digger wields the spade, for tidings to uncover, he calls the Colonnade."**

 

This was probably just a portion of the truth. Something to whet his appetite and expose him as a neophyte to the underworld. But he had faith in his own cunning that he could parse out a clearer truth in time. Satisfied that he'd made progress, James offered up the pouch of gold to Valentine, close enough for him to grab it. Valentine glanced down, licking his lips and snatched up the nuggets as if they were the bits of the last delectable meal he'd ever be allowed to have.

 

Valentine looked at James squarely without an ounce of his former snarky demeanor.

 

"And now young sir, I expect you to deliver on your end of the agreement. I would hate for a little girl to die because you couldn't resist betrayal."

 

James kept a stoic face but now he understood just how much of a threat this man posed.

 

"I will return. And keep my promise."

 

James placed the fruit knife behind the belt of his robe, plopped another piece of papaya in his mouth and made his way back to the village.

* * *

 

 The next afternoon they laid Abina to rest in a grave not too far from the fetish grove. What was once a bright blue sky became masked by the shadow of large grey clouds and a moderately sweeping wind, carrying fat, earthy raindrops.

 

The villagers were too stunned to care about wet clothes as the rain as is fell like pellets from the sky. They were frozen still in disbelief as Prah said familiar words offering her body back to **Asaase Yaa** (Mother Earth). Covered in white chalky clay and clad in a white robe with golden fringes, he wafted burning herbs around her grave and the host sang the songs to alert the ancestors, guiding her spirit safely back to **Nyame** (God). Prah was careful to abbreviate the ceremony, out of respect for her parents, particularly Frema, who had gone catatonic, her long arms dangling beside her, her face ashen, her mouth held open in a cry with no sound emerging from her body.

 

James felt the pulse of the drums coursing through his body as little Abina's body was placed down in the grave. He watched as a tearless Frema, wrapped in the arms of her husband, threw flowers and trinkets into the pit. He even heard the voices of the singers ring in his head as several men plopped mounds of dirt into the grave with their steady shovels. But as the others dispersed back to their own huts, he realized that Akuba was walking slowly in the direction of Prah's hut.

 

* * *

 

 Akuba stood alone with Prah inside his hut. He switched between serenely smoking his wooden pipe and sipping on a concoction from his weathered tin cup. Usually one to remain composed, he was pacing slowly back and forth in front of his pit fire. It was Akuba who was as still as glass. But then she spoke.

 

"Whatever this is, it is unnatural. Animals leave a definitive trail. So far there has been nothing."

 

"What do you propose we do?" Prah was looking at her, but it was obvious that his mind was racing.

 

"A night run. I can go farther out and see what I find." She was quiet yet determined.

 

James was crouched down in the bush just outside, having slowed his breathing to an unnatural rhythm to avoid being detected. Night runs? Alone? Is that where she sometimes disappeared to after he drifted off? Is that why she carried scars on her back and arms unlike all of the other women?

 

"You should take some of the men with you."

 

" **Yakobo** (James)?" She asked hesitantly.

 

"I'll leave that decision up to you," he chuckled.

 

She smiled back at him, nervously.

 

Prah walked towards the window nearest where James was crouching down. James cringed and then smirked to himself. The old man knew he was there the entire time. There wasn't much any of them could keep from him, the wily wizened and omniscient fool.

 

Prah took a long draw on his pipe, exhaled slowly and looking out into the distance, spoke.

 

"I regularly cast the spells to protect us all. But there are ancient powers, forever seeking to take hold. This is our reality. My guess…this was either done by vampire or witch."

 

He turned back to look at Akuba, who was rightfully worried.

 

"Find out what you can on your end. I'll make some other investigations."

 

James maneuvered his body around the side of the hut so Akuba wouldn't see him as she left.

 

Prah again puffed on his pipe allowing Akuba to get a decent distance away before he spoke again.

 

"Now that you've spent your time eavesdropping, stop crouching down and come inside James. I think there are things you need to tell me."

 

James stood up and let his head hang slightly as he adjusted himself to enter the hut. His embarrassment flashed a dark ruby red on his cheeks. A part of him felt as if he'd been chastised, like a young mischievous boy but there was no sour-faced Horace here to mete out punishment. Prah's corrections, when given, came with a verbal sting. And in any case, there was a missing young girl whose life hung in the balance. That was at the forefront of everyone's minds. James laughed at his momentary smallness and stepped inside the hut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ashanti people, living further inland in what is now Ghana, first had interactions with Europeans via the Dutch. The Fante people, living on the coast eventually held alliances with the British. When the Ashanti and Fante began warring against one another, the Dutch and British intervened, because the natural resources of the area were too much to resist.
> 
> * fifteen puzzle – a term meaning complete and absolute confusion
> 
> You can contact me here on my [tumblr](http://dbshawnblog.tumblr.com/)


	11. The Hunter – Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James learns more about Akuba

The energy surrounding the village now was tense and thick. On the surface, everyone went about their usual business: tending the livestock, carving down trees, hollowing out fresh pulpy trunks to make drums, sharing communal meals around large cast-iron kettles full of spicy flanks of flesh, buttery rice and fragrant vegetables followed by the smoking of tobacco and the retelling of tales. Mainly, of how the Ashanti settled in the rich land surrounding Lake Bosumtwe. Even Frema and Safo buried their grief in their work and chores, moving swiftly so as to distract themselves from the misery that swarmed around them like a heavy mist.

But James knew this measured calm was nothing more than a mask; covering an anxious surge just beneath. It was in the way the chief surreptitiously made his way to meet with Prah; something he rarely did so openly. It was in the way some of the men, seemingly bulging dams of rage, were ready to burst, if just given a signal. It was even in the way Akuba sank back into herself, barely speaking to anyone and disappearing from Yasi for stretches of time.

James, now a splintered thing, born to the Old World, yearning for the New, appreciated Yasi. Not simply for its hidden treasure or the ease with which the people enveloped him. No, the thing he loved most about the village, was how intimately everyone's lives intertwined with the land. No need to spout their beliefs in weekly, written sermons, or printed pamphlets, no need to chastise one another about social or communal duties. Every fragment of daily life was a calling, embedded with the deepest reverence and respect.

After every hunt, they gave thanks, utilizing each piece of the kill for food or clothing or tools. Each parcel of land within and slightly without the village was carefully tended; flowers, grass, roots and crops, cultivated in meticulous fashion. The stock animals were fed and tended to with deliberate devotion. And when they honored their Gods, in song and prayer, they gave thanks to the spirits dwelling in every bush, every tree, even the crisp, cool currents of the river. For they knew their nurturing would be reciprocated by the Gods tenfold.

This level of reverence reminded him of Amma. He long suspected her intention was for him to live in this place after the shipwreck. Yasi, sublime and rich, embodied the truest order of things. Not stone palaces and cobblestone streets, tenement houses crammed to the hilt, or beggars on dirty, dank streets. But water and sun and earth and a people intermingled and thriving. Together.

At the center of it all, for James, was Akuba. His reluctant companion. Just as he felt her fortress melting away, she was now, again, cloaked in a hefty silence. She still fulfilled her duties, making sure he had a hearty breakfast every morning, heating up water for his daily bath, cleaning his robes and loin cloths and sweeping and airing out their hut, burning fragrant herbs before they slept to sooth and relax them both. But everything she did not say hung between them like a cold, stone wall.

He almost felt like a stalker. Listening to her conversation with Prah, detailing her comings and goings. In London, a city of millions lost in their own thoughts and plans, he could have cloaked himself behind horse-drawn carriages or concealing attire. He could have even paid a vagabond to follow her, offering up a few sterling and a frosty pint of beer.

But in Yasi, it was much more difficult to conceal oneself. From anyone. Intermittently between duties, he would first let his eyes follow her movements to and fro, allowing her the respect of many paces before he moved physically. James hoped that she wasn't offended by this type of attention. Maintaining privacy and discretion seemed to be her natural way. Yet, he simply couldn't help himself. He'd never considered any sort of emotional attachment to her. Yet, imperceptibly, he now found himself wanting and needing to know more.

Akuba was fully aware of James' attention. Even outside of her peripheral vision, she felt James watching her and wondering. With those intense and pointed eyes of his. The few instances she allowed herself to look directly at him, usually as they ate their dinner together, she noticed how striking his eyes were. They reminded her of Yasi's sunsets; sparks of flame sinking into verdant green. There was something about his consuming gaze that at times made her shiver. He didn't so much look at her, as look into her, searching and probing for her secrets. Secrets she had fiercely concealed from so many of them. Secrets she believed would have James turn away from her in disgust.

He wasn't clumsy or boisterous when he shadowed her, but instead, quiet and deliberate. Allowing her space, mimicking her movements at a great distance, careful not to crowd or alarm her. Instead of feeling agitated, this made her feel protected, even cared for, in a way she hadn't anticipated. It had been too long, since she'd opened her heart to a man and now a strange feeling was growing inside of her. She wouldn't be able to conceal herself from him for much longer.

* * *

James surreptitiously followed her early one evening as she traveled the short path leading to Frema and Safo's hut. He kept a good distance away. Far enough away not to hear the details of their conversation, but close enough to take in the entire scene. The couple stood as she entered and she stayed inside with them, talking softly for a good while. It was only Safo who responded to Akuba, who was now using her hands, to illustrate her point. Before long she finished up, first hugging Safo and then Frema. She whispered into the woman's ear and Frema collapsed into her husband's arms, at first moaning, then finally crying the tears she'd suppressed for too long. Akuba backed away, turning swiftly on her heels and heading back to their hut. She seemed frantic and embarrassed and didn't bother to wipe away her own tears.

Uncomfortable witnessing this display, not knowing how he would approach her, James held back for a while in the bush and waited. Truth be told, he didn't have experience comforting women through sorrow. Not even Zilpha. Tears frightened him, rendering him useless. What good was a man when he couldn't be of use?

He'd been too young to know what was wrong with his mother when she wailed in her upstairs bedroom, locked inside, seemingly unable to come out and reach him. And the only time he'd encountered Zilpha at her most vulnerable was the day Horace removed him from their home.

They'd come from a quick jaunt in their clearing, after a refreshing swim and retired to Zilpha's bedroom, ostensibly to read together. Usually alerted by staff of mealtimes or their father's requests to meet him in the sitting room, on this day it was Horace himself, eager to share a new courting prospect with Zilpha, who pushed open the heavy wooden door of her bedroom, to find her deep in the midst of a kiss with James. Both of them were sitting on her bed and clothed, thankfully, except for the matter of James' hand undeniably caressing her right breast and her hand dangerously close to the crotch of his breeches.

The rest of that afternoon was a blur of screaming and cursing and the pounding of fists against Young James' face, rendering him bloody and swollen when all was said and done. He never registered his father's vile words, wasn't concerned when Horace ordered him to his room to gather as many of his effects as he could carry because it had been Zilpha's excruciating screams that pierced his gut.

There wasn't any way that Horace could injure or degrade him. Except to sever his proximity to Her. Before he'd been thrown down the front steps, a theatrical display for the neighbors, he'd frozen in place as Zilpha ran towards him, arms outstretched, begging him inconsolably to wait for her; not to leave her alone in that dreary house. The sight of her usually coifed hair, now disheveled and falling sloppily around her face drained him of what little energy he had left.

He moved towards her, but between them was Horace; tall and enraged and pushing her back with the large palm of his hand. He'd wanted to kiss her one last time. On her forehead. He wanted to tell her that he would most certainly return. He wanted her to know that he could never forget her. But instead, he was forced to turn on his heel and walk away. As if none of it had ever happened.

James never allowed himself to cry openly before that day. But as he walked the winding street that followed the Thames, he sobbed, letting his feet carry him to the only other place where he could take refuge. The Company, slightly wary of his taste for disobedience, could never turn down the change to mold him into a ruthless weapon of war. For lodgings and hot meals and his fealty, they would use him for the greatness of the Empire. Widening Britain's sovereign hand and conquering the wild places of the world.

He'd never felt so small and powerless and useless in his life. He never wanted to feel that way again.

* * *

Deciding it was time, James made his way to their hut and found Akuba preparing dinner. She was adding fresh vegetables and large red chunks of bison meat to the iron cooking pot sitting over the fire pit. She looked up at him as he entered, quickly shifting her eyes away from him, moving to a small table where she chopped fresh herbs, onions and peppers she'd gathered days earlier.

James went close to his bed, removing his knife and water pouch from his robe. He unfastened his belt and unraveled his robe, gathering it up quickly in his arms and letting it hang over the back of a wooden chair in his corner of the hut. Wearing nothing but his loin cloth, he found the tub of water, cool and still from the morning, dipping his water pouch into the tub, then holding it securely over his head, letting water saturate his hair, his face and his upper torso. He dipped his water pouch in again, this time pouring water on the tops of his thighs, letting it stream down his legs to his sandled feet. The water felt cool and clean against his skin and he enjoyed the slight chill of it as the drops evaporated into the air.

He found a small cache of looseleaf tobacco and his smoking pipe and methodically packing the crushed leaves into his pipe. He retrieved a small twig he kept for such an occasion, walked towards the cooking pot, dipping it swiftly into the fire and then directly into the packed leaves, making sure they accepted the flame, before blowing it out and letting it cool.

James sat on his bed, a wooden palette covered with straw and then above that covered with a cotton-filled bedding. He sucked on the pipe, drawing in the rich aromatic smoke into his mouth allowing it move further down his throat, enveloping his nasal passage before pushing it out with on a measured exhale.

Akuba added the additional ingredients to the pot, stirring patiently, waiting for the heat to properly bind the stew.

James looked up at her, studying her face for a moment.

"What did you say to them? To Frema and Safo?" he asked.

Akuba knew this was coming. Still, the bass of his voice brought her out of her own thoughts.

"I told them not to despair. There is still hope. That if Akoma is still alive, I will find her." She continued to stir, hoping he would leave it at that.

"Was that wise?" he asked gently. As much as he hoped the little girl could come home safely, an overwhelming doubt had come to him days ago. Grown men had trouble surviving alone in this wilderness. How likely could a little girl do the same?

"It was what I had to do. Frema's only here because there's a chance her baby is alive."

He swiftly extinguished his pipe, then walked over to where she stood, facing her directly. "And if Akoma is dead. Then what?"

She risked looking at him directly. Something in her entire body sank, ever so slightly. He didn't mean to insult her but to prepare her for the inevitable.

"I had to say those words. Not just for Frema. But for myself. If she's dead I'll leave. And never come back."

Her body stiffened and she stopped stirring the stew. James saw tears sitting on the edge of her eyelids, threatening to spill down her cheeks. He couldn't risk her breaking down because then he wouldn't know how to keep her lucid and calm.

So he did the only thing he knew to do in that moment. He took her face in his sturdy hands and kissed her on the lips. Gently at first and then with more force. She released the ladle into the pot, reciprocating in kind, opening her mouth to him and loosely wrapping her arms around his back. He held her tightly in his muscular arms and moved to kiss the tender flesh at her neck. Only a few times had he held her and never this tightly. Always after sex, when she'd sometimes drift off to sleep while he regained himself. Even then, their entanglement was a tenuous affair. Neither of them remained in each other's arms 'til the morning.

Akuba whimpered softly and the feel of her warm breath against his skin caused him to feel jolt of sorrow mixed with a twinge of arousal. She faintly smelled of vanilla and her ample breasts were pressed firmly against his chest. Beneath them, he could feel the measured thump of her heartbeat. James inhaled her scent deeply, tenderly kissing her throat while commanding the most primal part of himself to settle. He didn't want to offend her simply because his body had other ideas.

He took her hands into his and pulled back just enough to focus on her face to face.

"I want to know." He spoke directly, but quietly. As gently as he knew how.

Akuba couldn't bear to look at him so she focused her eyes on hands, intertwined and fidgeting.

"Before I came here, two years ago, I was married. To a fisherman. Our families arranged it and while I can't say I loved him, he was good to me. He provided for us and prayed day and night that I'd have a son. Our second year together, I discovered I was pregnant and I was happier than I'd ever been. But when our son was born, there was something very wrong with him. Physically.

She reached for James offering him her hand. He grabbed it squeezing it firmly as he moved even closer to her. As the fabric of her robe parted, he could feel the softness of her thigh against his. He rubbed the inside of her hand gently with his thumb, substituting his sudden need to take some of her flesh into his mouth.

"He wouldn't accept our son, blaming me for the baby's deformities. 'Unclean' is what he called us both. Saying I wasn't fit to be a wife. So rather than live with the shame, he and some other men attacked me one night and slit my baby's throat."

Akuba's heartbeat began to increase as she went back to that place, to that night. Remembering the metallic smell of blood, feeling her husband's knife slice her flesh, hearing her own anguished screams and the steady cry of her baby.

"I watched him die without anyone to hold him."

"I shouldn't have …" James moved his fingers between hers and gripped tightly.

She continued still lost in her own thoughts.

"I bled out in the dirt beside him and I prayed to God to let me die. Instead, He saw fit to let me live. Every day since has been a question."

"And your husband …what happened to him?"

James could feel his anger rising in tandem with his ardor. As the blood raced through his veins his internal heat moved outwards towards his skin. His dick was filling with blood, becoming stiff and engorged. He blushed deeply from embarrassment. If he could have willed this away, he would have.

"He got away before I or anyone else could catch him. I wandered the wilderness alone for several weeks before Prah found me and brought me here."

This last piece of information wasn't entirely true. Akuba couldn't now explain how she'd found her husband and meted out vengeance. How she stood over his scarred and bloodied body while she listened for the final wisp of air from his pierced lungs. How she'd waited for almost an hour afterward his death, throwing fresh dirt and young leaves on his body. Satisfied that the elements would do with him as they deemed best.

She flattened out her lips and he knew she wouldn't continue talking. At least, not about that.

There was a tingling feeling igniting deep in her belly. No, she would keep that information secret until… Until there was absolutely no way left for her to shield it from him.

It was obvious to her that James was excited and she shockingly…wasn't entirely averse to congress.

James wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to say that he shouldn't have pushed. Instead he matched the rate of her breath and gently placed his lips again, on her neck. He kissed her there, tenderly at first and then with more force, taking some of her soft flesh between his teeth, gently biting and manipulating her skin. He slightly hated himself for being aroused. Something about the specter of death, hanging around them, haunting him constantly, that was pushing him to affirm life. What better way to satiate that feeling than plunging into a warm, wet pussy? They'd had sex several times, yes. But now he wanted to make love to her. To kiss and soothe and caress every part of her.

The water in the cauldron began to boil, popping boisterous bubbles at its surface. Before she could attend to it, James gathered fresh water in a small tin and hurriedly extinguished the fire within the pit. They could eat later.

Even before his official welcome into the tribe, the men and women had opened up to him easily; patiently answering his questions, correcting his words in Twi and eagerly showing him the tasks and intricate crafts which occupied most of their days. They often called him oburoni, their word for foreigners, but when meal time came, offered him large portions of food, when it was time to celebrate they taught him the words to their songs and invited him to dance. He didn't' care if he was oburoni. For now he was an oburoni in a new home. The love, care and friendship of the tribe had been given freely to him. There was a tenuous love surrounding him.

Now he wanted more. And he wanted it from Akuba. He wanted to truly know her. To understand who she had been and who she was becoming. To feel the things she was too ashamed or private to speak of. He wanted to see and feel her. Every sumptuous inch.. But he couldn't say the words.

He took her hand again and walked her over to his bed. His energy was steady but not too insistent and she realized she had no desire to move away from him. Frema, Safo and their girls had been at the forefront of her mind, her cranium stinging from knowing that terror had reached their tiny village. It brought her back to her own horrific history and threatened to siphon all of her hope and faith in nature and the justness of the gods. Having him hold her felt nice and she realized sex might help her forget everything, if just for a little while.

He turned to face her and she asked him quietly, "Have you ever lost someone?" Her question surprised him.

_His mind immediately flashed to Zilpha. Dark of hair, running through their field, shedding her petticoat without an ounce of shame. Sitting at the dinner table, chewing her food daintily like a little bird._

"My mother died from illness when I was still a little boy."

_In his mind, Zilpha arose from the table to unashamedly kiss him on the mouth._

"I never got to say goodbye to her."

In the present he winced. He remembered all too well the days when Amma had been ill, moving in and out of sanity like the roving tides. He remembered how much he'd anguished over Zilpha when he first left London. Now he could barely remember the sound of her voice. He needed to push those memories away. London was like a fever dream to him. Something from a past life he could only touch in the deepest of realms sleep. He felt a warmth here in Yasi, that he'd never truly felt in England. And he wasn't sure if he would ever return.

"Yes. Yes, I have. And it's been one long aching silence."

The sting of his loneliness settled upon him and it dawned him immediately that his most primal self was afraid. Afraid of abandonment, afraid of isolation and afraid that his deepest, wildest, most menacing self was the reason he'd now lost the two most important women in his life. Yes, technically there was Horace and mates and teachers and Captains. But it had been soft, ephemeral women who had shaped him and given him cover.

All he had was here and now, holding Akuba in his arms. And as he realized more and more of what she'd lost in life, he felt his need rise, heavy and thick in his abdomen. He wanted to fuck her. To soothe those deep aching places she was hopelessly trying to hide from him.

She looked at James longingly, beginning to understand why Prah had placed her with this man. He was perceptive and strong and virile and here. When he understood everything, would he reject her? She'd attempted to keep their sex on a functional level; a need that must be fulfilled similar to eating, shitting or washing one's hair.

But as James pulled her into him, close enough for their bodies to touch, close enough for her to smell the desire pulsing from him in waves, she realized that she'd been mistaken. She wasn't a fortress and she wasn't emotionless. She was a woman of blood and bone and and need

James could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He carefully unraveled her robe and her sinuous curves made his mouth water. "I want you" he whispered in her ear. And she knew what he said was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can contact me here on my [tumblr](http://dbshawnblog.tumblr.com/)


	12. The Hunter - Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lil 'bit of smut for ya...

"I want you to forget everything. Just for a little while." James said those words while kissing above her lips, kissing her nose, teasing her cheeks and making a feast of the tender spot just below her earlobe. The warmth of his mouth on her skin made her feel, momentarily, as if they'd known each other for a lifetime.

Akuba opened her eyes and looked at him, surprised by the persistent tingling between her legs. Maybe because of the way he so directly expressed his desire. Or maybe because after losing her little family, she finally wanted to feel something again.

In truth, in the short time since they'd come together, they were still learning one another; their likes and dislikes, moods, sense of humor and vulnerabilities. Their sensitivities found them entwined in a slow and deliberate dance; James gently peeling back her delicate layers while cleverly disguising his own and Akuba intuiting the unspoken parts of him as she allowed him to come closer.

Up until now, he'd felt and shown a reverence to her. She wasn't like the whores in Cabinda who had no care for how he handled them, as long as the drinks flowed freely and money poured from his pockets. She was starting to become home and comfort for him. So far, he'd been gentler with her, not having learned the reins of her limits. Now he felt himself wanting to truly fuck her. Not out of anger or disrespect. But from pure raw desire. Her body was strong yet soft, fragile yet sumptuous. And for the first time, he wanted to taste her in ravenous fashion.

Akuba had taken great pride to cook hearty meals for him and make sure their hut was as comfortable as possible. What troubled him was the notion of her knowing what Prah knew. How he'd come to Yasi in the first place. If she knew what he'd done in the name of profit and conquest, he wondered if she would close herself to him forever.

James certainly wasn't her husband, but he was her companion. Akuba didn't mind sharing her body with him as he was clear and certain, leaving very little doubt what he wanted on a daily basis. She was shocked at the strength of his appetites. Sometimes she could hear him, in the dark, stroking his organ, his bare hand yanking at his flesh so ruggedly that she shuddered to think how vigorous he might be with her the next time.

However, when a cloud of melancholy settled over her or when the week of her moontime came, he watched her knowingly and waited. If she expressed a desire for company he would oblige her. Otherwise he gave her space and privacy to embody her own layered thoughts and feelings. That was but another clue of his emotional breadth, allowing her a peak behind his stoic curtain. She could feel his rage and lust and a deep pool of heartache there as well. There was much more to his own story and in time, she wanted to learn every detail. She was certain the loss of his mother had deepened his concern for women. It was evident in the ways he looked after her, respected her. These small measures of care and sensitivity endeared him to her. They propelled her to him now.

James brought his mouth to hers again, savoring the suppleness of her lips. Akuba's skin was warm and slightly salty from her tears and he savored the tanginess seeping onto his lips. As her mouth parted, he eagerly flicked his tongue against her own, then drew back to kiss the bridge of her nose, her cheeks and nibble her plump bottom lip.

He stopped to catch her chin with the fingers of one hand, bringing his eyes directly down to hers. "Do you want this? Now?" He truly wanted to know. Something she wasn't accustomed to. Her husband never questioned what she wanted. He expected her to fulfill her wifely duties and she never questioned this arrangement. He had taken her in anger, in joy, in frustration, in whatever mood he currently occupied. But never once had he asked her what she desired. Or how she felt. Up to this point, neither had James.

Akuba nodded her head a few times, then averted his gaze and as it brought a fresh wave of heat to her loins. She moved her hands down to try and untie her robe but he stopped her, whispering in her ear, "Let me do this", before sucking on the tender lobe below.

She obliged willingly, feeling her nipples harden and electricity surging in her abdomen. It seemed her body was responding to him beyond her fears and concerns. This was new terrain and she was surprisingly nervous.

She was accustomed to him touching her under the cover of darkness. Literally feeling his way to, upon and inside of her. Their late night/ early morning fumbling gave her a sense of privacy and anonymity. She could oblige him without having to expose herself emotionally. Now as he caressed her, in the last few hours of daylight, she felt vulnerable and uneasy with him for the very first time. Slowly but surely he was beginning to see her. Truly see her. Her stomach was queasy at this level of exposure. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself as James reached for her.

He slowly unfastened the clasp of her robe until it gave way. He stopped caressing her just long enough for the fabric to unwind and swiftly fall to the ground.

There were Company men and society men alike who swore black women were insatiable, sex hungry harpies, ready to drain a man of every ounce of his strength. James knew this was nothing more than a projection of their own appetites. Akuba had so far, been one of the more reserved women he'd ever been with. Of course he fantasized about her mounting him, riding him wildly without shame or abandon. As he came to know her, to understand her, he realized her sorrow wasn't something he could will or fuck away. She was a woman of depth and feeling and if he was patient, when she was ready, she would lose herself with him. Completely.

James quickly unwrapped his loin cloth, his rigid dick bouncing as his clothing fell away. He hadn't relieved himself since their last session so his balls hung weightily against the base of his thighs. Her heavy breasts, round and supple held a hearty invitation. He drank in the gentle curves of her naked body. He was more than ready to feel her skin against his own as she lay beneath him. How was it that women's skin remained so supple? He caressed the dip of her slender waist, moving his hand down her hips, then round the back to palm her round, voluptuous behind.

"Come here," he whispered as he led her to his bed. He sat down and she joined him, jolting slightly as he brought his mouth to her neck and let his hands caress her nipples. Even while stimulated by his touch, Akuba couldn't help but look at him closely in the light. His dick, large and proud was jutting away from his body like a jagged spear. Unlike her husband, James was uncircumcised. She realized that she'd never touched him there, accustomed to learning the feel of him in total darkness. The extra layer of skin discretely covering him intrigued her and without thinking she reached out and took him in the warmth of her palm.

James winced slightly as her hand enveloped him. He increased the pressure of his mouth along the skin of her neck, pulling the warm flesh between his teeth, while she began moving her hand up and down the length of him. The cushiony outer skin of his dick felt strange beneath her fingers, especially since she knew how hard he felt when he entered her. She chuckled to herself as she used her hand to make the head of his cock hide then appear, peak out, then recede.

"Am I funny in the light?" James teased in between taking heavy breaths to steady himself. Her curiosity and playfulness was a good sign. She had reached for him. Without hesitation or fear. He was more than happy to oblige her.

He moved his hips back and forth against her hand just enough to encourage her, kissing the base of her throat and flicking at her now firm nipples with his fingers. Her hand was gentle and probing at first, but as he let out a moan she found a firmer grip, letting her hand twist around him, then push back and forth with vigor. She liked the heavy feeling of him, the main vein bulging and winding down the length of his shaft. She also liked the sounds he made as she caressed him.

Akuba kept working him until another thought occurred to her. When she lived on the coast, she'd heard white men bragging about the whores there sucking them off. What if she used her mouth to play with him? A few small drops of fluid appeared at the tip of his dick and she curiously felt her mouth water. Bending her head down to kiss him with her lips, she stopped just for a moment to inhale his deep, musky scent. Then she covered his mighty head with her mouth, using the dampness on her lips to slide far down his thick, tense member.

"Fuuuuuuuckkk!" James grunted aloud before he could catch himself. He hadn't expected this from her. Not now at least. He ran his hand down the back of her spine and then slipped it around to fondle her breasts. In Cabinda, when he played with a whore for the first time, he would only have her suck him off. It was the most direct way to tell whether or not she was hearty enough for a full session. As a stranger, even with her inexperience and slight clumsiness, Akuba would most certainly have passed his test.

She didn't allow her lack of knowledge to keep her from experimenting. She tried taking him into her mouth as far as he could go and she also toyed with just his head, using her sinuous tongue to wind around it, almost bringing him to the brink. The sensation of her thick lips on him and the friction of her mouth pulling against his organ was deliciously sinful. He could feel the muscles of his abdomen tightening and sparks of flame beginning to surge from his core to his outer limbs.

She finally found a sensuous rhythm, moving her mouth down on him as he pushed his hips upwards. She held one hand on his outer thigh and one on his cock mimicking the movement of her mouth while alternating to caress his sack. James wanted her to keep going. Lord knows he wanted it! But if they continued in this manner he would empty himself into her mouth and it was much too soon for that.

He gently pulled her up by her shoulders until she was facing him again. "Too much?" she asked. The powers she usually held over men were much darker and physical in a completely different way. Not as sublime as making a lover moan.

"Ah ah ahhhh, don't want to come just yet."

Akuba smiled at him skittishly. If she could make him jerk now, what would he do when she'd had sufficient practice?

James kissed her deeply again and pushed her gently down onto his bed. There was a layer of straw, then above that a wooden pallet, sturdy enough for a person of almost any size. Above that different weighted blankets and downy quilts, until it was almost as soft as his mattress back home.

Positioning himself above her, one of his knees between hers, he bent down and brought the flesh of her neck between his lips, this time taking her left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He twisted the hardened knob back and forth with a slight bit of force until he felt her relax. James then bent down and took the tender nipple between his teeth. He gnawed at it lightly before bringing it solely between his lips. At first, he suckled her gently and then with more friction until her sounds became louder. Then he moved to the other nipple, wetting it carefully with his mouth, enjoying the way she began to move involuntarily at his touch.

The sensation caused a stirring right at the core of her pussy and she couldn't help but move in response. Akuba ran her hands through James' hair, loving how thick and unruly it was even in its difference to hers. She let one hand rest on his mighty shoulder while the other caressed his broad chiseled back. It was a shame she hadn't truly taken the time to appreciate his body. He was strong and tall and she was just beginning to understand how gentle and thorough he could be. Although, in plain sight, he hadn't once mentioned the raised scars flayed along her back, legs and arms. They were yet another story, another layer of her life to be revealed. Possibly the most important part.

His stiff penis was there against her thigh. Substantial enough that she realized why he felt comfortable hunting in nothing but loin cloths with the other men. She smiled and softly laughed to herself. He had no need to feel inferior sexually or otherwise. James loved the sounds he brought out of her. Instead of feeling self-conscious or embarrassed, he smiled as she quietly laughed. She was most beautiful when she was relaxed and carefree. If he was the reason for such, then that made it all the better.

At first she'd been hesitant to give herself to him. She had known no other man than her husband whose sex had always been rough and full of need. Her arranged marriage ensured that she had learn him from scratch the same way she was learning James now. Unfortunately, their union hadn't lasted long enough for her to truly understand him. Otherwise, he wouldn't have killed their baby and run off like a slimy coward, leaving her half dead from physical and emotional wounds.

James was different. He'd come from the other world and there was something so rugged, wild and free about him. He reminded her of the explorers her grandmother spoke of while braiding her hair in the evenings. White men who, having no doubt the world belonged to them, boldly lay claim to wherever they landed. He wasn't greedy and obnoxious those men. He lived in Yasi in a spirit of community, treating them as his equals. And he was never afraid.

He finished with her breast, kissing just beneath her mounds, loving the feel of her tender skin there. And all over really. He drew circles around her belly button with his tongue, tickling her and making his organ squirm with excitement. There was nothing about her body that lay evidence to her having had a baby. He tried to imagine her womb, swollen with new life and it brought a smile to his face. She was a world within worlds, ripe and fertile.

James reverently kissed the crease of each leg and then he moved down past her dark curly hair to the apex of her pleasure. He could see her clit, now engorged with blood, peaking out above the folded petals of her outer labia. It was a wonder to him, that as dark as her skin was, her cunt was as perfectly pink as that of any woman he'd lain with.

All of this was new and strange to Akuba. She couldn't hide her excitement or the very visible response her body was giving to James' touch. Soft warm spurts of wetness flowed from her most sacred place and she wondered if this was unpleasant to him. She instinctively raised her head to peer down at James. "What are you going to…?" she asked anxiously.

He looked up at her puzzled, quickly realizing her dilemma. He wasn't certain of all of their customs, especially concerning the sexual arts. But he knew she had only lain with a few men, making him the more experienced of the two.

"I'm going to worship you. With my hands." He looked back at her as a devilish grin appeared on his face "…and my mouth."

Akuba inhaled nervously as James gently spread her legs open, rubbing his hand gently along her outer lips. He inhaled her scent, something akin to sandalwood and sweet vanilla, and as she gave in to the delicious feeling, letting her head fall back, he gently placed his forefinger on her pointed pearl. Testing the waters he started with a strong amount of pressure, soon realizing that stroking her clit with a much lighter touch caused her to move her hips wildly.

James could feel himself throbbing and he didn't know how much longer he would last. But he was determined to give her this moment of pleasure and release. He slipped one finger, then two inside of her and when her walls clinched around him, he pushed in and out of her vagina with medium paced strokes. Akuba began to move her hips against his motion, inciting the sweetest friction between them.

As her panting gave way to moaning, James couldn't resist reaching for his dick with his other hand, slowly stroking it and feeling the bulging vein on the underside course with a fresh flow of blood. There were small drops of cum at the head of his manhood and he wished for her fleshy lips to once again push him in and out of her mouth.

Akuba let out a yelp when he brought his hungry mouth to her sex, flicking his tongue at her clit. The dual sensation of his lips surrounding her and the spiraling of his sinuous tongue made her feel as if there were two of him handling her down there. The feeling was on the one hand, spiky and pointed and on the other hand, wide and luscious. Sensuous waves of pleasure moved from that point outwards towards her hips and her legs. At first he licked her flesh up and down, then settled on circling around the precious cluster of nerves, finally letting his lips fully surround it, to suckle her slowly.

"OhhhhhAhhh uhhhh James. What…Ohhh! God" Akuba ran her hands through his hair as she moved against his hungry mouth.

Her uneven gasps sent a jolt through his dick and he felt more drops of cum issue forth. He clenched his abs and his butt to keep the surge at bay.

Akuba never dreamt she could feel this amount of pleasure. There were undulating waves forming in her abdomen, pulsing stronger and further away from her groin. If she didn't know better, she would've sworn that he'd cast some sort of spell over her.

She began moving against him, out of the bounds of her own control. Her wetness clear evidence he was bringing her higher and higher to a focal point. He lapped greedily at her now, pushing his tongue inside her slit and nibbling on her clit, attempting to drive her insane.

James could feel pulses of his own, building in his groin and his dick ached, longing to be enveloped inside of her warm, tight spaces. James began working her with his fingers again, then replaced them with his mouth, teasing her, daring her to release.

Akuba instinctively tried to resist the impending surge, but the vibrations were too powerful. She moved her hips such that her pussy rubbed against James' tongue creating the most exquisite friction. Soon enough the waves began to crest sending bolts of electricity from the core of her. Her orgasm burst outward, the muscles of her legs and core convulsing as she let out a deep guttural moan. Her mind dissolved into a thousand tiny particles until she was nothing but sound and breath and churning.

James, happy to oblige, pushed against her thighs with his hands, still playing with her pearl, as her spasms jolted her uncontrollably. He happily watched as she, head flung back, moving from side to side, whimpered through the pulses of sensation. Once her pussy spurted her sweet juices, he opened his willing mouth to drink her in.

Her overarching mind was shocked and embarrassed at this release, but as her body moved of its own accord, she sank into the dissipating bolts of energy still tingling her nether regions and the soft, yet focused intensity of his mouth against her most sensitive spots.

As she continued to come, James moved up and over her, bending down to suckle on one of her dark, chocolate nipples. She opened her eyes to him staring intently at her and she reached up slightly to kiss him. James, still wet with her essence pushed his tongue into her willing mouth, covering her lips with his. She was surprised to taste herself on him. No man had ever kissed her down there and now she realized that her body was capable of more than she'd ever imagined.

James began slowly grinding his hips against her, his penis searching for her entrance. However he was too high up, pushing himself against the top of her mound, impatient to be inside of her.

"Help me put it in," he grunted in her ear.

Akuba reached down to firmly take hold of him, scooching her hips down slightly. She pulled his prick towards her guiding his covered head to her entrance. She sighed sweetly as James licked her neck, her chin and her cheek and pushed his eager prick deep inside her pussy.

James marveled at warm and tight she was. He wanted to savor this and take his time. But the sensation of her wetness couple with the grip of her warm walls pulling snuggly against his organ, sent him over the edge. After the first few delicious strokes, he flexed his butt and began to forcefully plunge inside her.

His will and restraint gave way to lust and passion as he pounded inside her over and over. At first Akuba was content to lie still and receive him, but soon enough she found herself moving against him, such that she began to angle her hips as he retreated in order to meet him as lunged back inside of her.

James groaned deeply as she tightened her grip, squeezing his head even upon his retreat. He was lightheaded, losing his thoughts, focused only on his breath, her pussy and his need to fill her to the brim.

Akuba adjusted herself, opening wider to receive his powerful thrusts. She remembered her husband fucking her with this kind of vigor. She didn't remember enjoying it this much. James was caressing her face, nibbling on her collarbone and her neck, peppering her with more kisses on her mouth as she gently placed on his shoulders.

Each time he filled her, she contracted around him, amazed how his closeness was simultaneously piercing a piece of her heart. She felt herself wandering into her own head until James' deep voice directed her back.

"Let me in. Please," he moaned.

She came back to herself and to the two of them. She knew what he wanted and she willed herself to do it; locking eyes with him, wrapping her legs around his lower back and bracing herself as he bucked into her like a wild stallion.

James looked deeply into her eyes and there he could see behind her barrier to her sorrow, her longing, her warmth and her desire. He wondered if she truly wanted him, but as she moved against his thrusts, warm and pliable and he knew that she did.

Finally he felt a surge of warmth from his own body, moving from his dick to his abdomen and his lower back. Determined to stay the course, he kept his eyes on her, placing his hands now on her shoulders to gain deeper access to her. As the spasms began he attempted to maintain control until they finally they overtook him. A bolt of energy burst from deep within and he forced himself all the way inside her, bumping against a firm knob of flesh.

Akuba cried out as her body began to once again convulse in electric pulses and she tightened around him so snuggly that she felt his foreskin push back the very tip of him touch her most sensitive spot. James grunted loudly, spewing waves of cum deep within her vagina.

His orgasm jerked his body wildly above her. "Fuuuuck!" he yelled as the last of him spilled inside of her.

He collapsed on top of her, lying that way for a long while, while the remnants of his pleasure finally wind down.

Akuba felt a fresh new set of tears coming to the surface. Instead of holding back, she let them flow freely. James raised himself up slightly, catching her tears with his lips, kissing at them, then lapping them up with his tongue. He let his hand wander to the curve of her waist and caressed her there as he kissed her nose and then her fluffy lips again.

He pulled out of her and rolled next to her, encircling her body with his, caressing her thighs and curvy hips while nuzzling his face in the hollow of her neck. He let his hands wander back up to her chest just below her breasts making slow circles on her exposed skin.

He wanted to tell her that he wouldn't let her go alone. That he was coming with her to search for the missing girl. Instead he gently kissed her and held her, releasing his warm breath against her skin. Akuba knew he would follow when next she went searching for Frema's baby girl. That she couldn't convince him otherwise.

They lay together in silence for a long time, resting together, their breathing in sync before finally giving in to sleep.

That night, as he drifted off, he heard the loud shrieks again. Like a massive bird hunting for prey.

He dreamt again of home. This time of him and Amma standing by their creek bed. She, whole and wild, her hair braided into two long plaits, smiling at him with her eyes. She motioned for him to come closer and he ran towards her with his arms outstretched. She swooped him up, spinning 'round and 'round, wrapping him tightly inside of her eager arms. She spoke to him of her home and her desire to bring him there one day. For good.


	13. The Hunter – Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into the night they all go…

If James had been counting the days, or rather the nights, he would have known exactly why his skin had become irritated, his body overheated and his mouth more and more parched, no matter how much water he drank. He would have known why his teeth seemed to ache and his senses were enhanced to an unusual degree.

Tonight the moon was in her prime; full, luminescent and glowing over the land in a milky white array. None of this was at the forefront of his consciousness, mind you. It was the amplification of his body’s metamorphosis, ever since his chance encounter with that wolf, so long ago. The canine spirit always dwelt within him, but under a waxing moon, his hunger became insatiable. It was for this reason that he heard Akuba rise, heard the sound of her feet muted against an earthen floor, as she prepared to leave their hut.

He’d finally had a comforting dream of Amma, in a time and place before London had cast a shadow over her. In his vision, she was young, unencumbered and most importantly, free. She took his hand and ran with him through a forest of pine and moss til they reached a wide expanse of beach, the sand so silky between his toes that his first impulse was to lie down and let his entire body sink into its embrace. Just at the grains of sand were set to caress his skin, he was jostled back to Yasi and the blue-black night that curled around them

James could barely make out Akuba’s form in the utter dark. On any other night, he may not have heard the soft rustle of her robe as she wrapped it around herself, tying it in place. Several hours earlier he’d unwrapped that robe effortlessly like an early Christmas present _(what month was it again? Here in the quiet expanse of Ashantiland, it truly didn’t matter anymore)_. He let himself smile, remembering the contortions of her face as he savored every inch of her body. A flower blossoming.

James lay on his pallet, eyes almost closed, waiting for her to leave. To his surprise, she hesitated in the entranceway, turning her head back towards him and spoke.

“I wouldn’t follow if I were you. But if you must…bring a weapon.” Her voice was soft, low and pointed. Her inflection daring him to rise. Instead he lay still, focusing only on the expanse and retreat of his breath.

She stretched her lithe limbs, releasing a nervous breath from her lungs. Then she stepped out into the rich night air.

A slight breeze stirred around the village, but not loud enough to mask the certainty that others were joining her outside, to head off somewhere into the night. James waited a few more moments, blushing at the way she’d _“caught”_ him. Any man would have been curious. She had to know that.

He got up, wrapped his own robe about him, gathered a soft water sac made from animal skin and a curved dagger he’d made weeks earlier and left in the direction he’d last heard their voices.

* * *

 

Akuba took a deep bountiful breath of fragrant night air and willed her nervous stomach to settle itself. Of course James would follow. He was far too curious and attuned to her not to gather himself up and whisk away out of their hut to see what they were up to.

What were they doing exactly? Definitely searching for a little girl; possibly fending off an evil entity as well. Her own peculiarities meant that she was well versed in what other _beings_ roamed the land.

Prah warned them about creatures that sometimes searched in the heavy darkness for blood and flesh; fearful humans upon which to feast. In the weeks after her husband’s death, when she’d wandered the plains and jungles alone, she had come into contact with a few of them. Some merely phantoms passing through a field, their emanations no more than a whiff of smoke or mist. Others thoroughly solid, able to be touched; frightening, gruesome, creatures with steely teeth and claws meant to mangle muscles and tendons. All having the need to subsume a body down to a wilted carcass before moving on to their next victim.

She’d been most fortunate to observe from afar, safely hidden between tree and vine. But one creature, hanging upside down on a tree limb like a man-sized bat sharply opened its eyes as she made her way on to who-knows-where. It appeared momentarily disoriented between slumber and consciousness but then immediately locked eyes with hers, glaring at her intently. She had returned its gaze, anchored in the root of her own monstrosity. Seeing all that she was, it chose to find another target, curling itself upright to fly off into the night on dark, spiky wings.

* * *

 

Akuba walked to the edge of Yasi where Gameli, Kofi and Assai were waiting with weapons and tools in hand; Gameli at the ready with his spear, Kofi carrying only his axe and Addai with his bows and arrow slung on his back.

“We don’t even know what we’ll find out there,” Kofi doubtfully offered up.

“No we don’t, but we have to try”, Gameli suggested.

Assai, chewing calmly on a small piece of miswak, looked back and forth from his two friends to Akuba, who had grown very silent and very still. Of course he had thoughts, but instead of blurting them out he cracked his knuckles and waited for her to speak.

“Too much time has passed since they found Abina. And I can smell the same stench now as before the girls were taken. Something is out there. Trust me.”

Akuba smirked to herself. They weren’t accustomed to taking instructions from a woman. They only listened to her because of Prah and her secret. If there were no little girl involved, she could do this on her own, as she had many times before. There was no time now for worries, only action.

* * *

 

Akuba, daughter of Mawusi and Coblah was most definitely a woman; made of blood and bone and sweat and flesh. But she was very much something else as well. Prah knew this. The chief knew this. Kofi, Addai and Gameli knew this. It was the reason her grandmother was desperate to arrange a marriage for her, the reason Mawusi, her mother, didn’t fight when her father demanded she leave their home early on, the reason she kept her emotional self guarded from almost everyone she knew. It was also the reason the men of the tribe, as much as they desired to couple with her, kept their veritable distance.

There was never a time in her childhood when she was unaware of her differences. It was her natural inclination to face them internally. As much as the people of her village spoke of the mystical world, they were much more hesitant to embrace it face-to-face.

Before she became a tall, lithe and muscular young woman, she was a lanky, upshoot of a girl, who preferred to pick herbs and flowers instead of gathering well water and milking goats. Her _otherself_ , the part her mother Mawusi was ashamed to acknowledge, stirred often, especially around the lunar cycle. There were times when her mouth became parched and dry. After accidentally killing some of their livestock, Mawusi learned to take over milking the goats at that time of the month. For fear of what else could happen.

Akuba could taste the oncoming rains of the wet season; hence why Mawusi’s garden was always bountiful with all types of fruits and vegetables. Akuba could also hear the trekking of the beasts of the savannah passing through the night. Once, she was able to warn the others when a curious young lion sauntered through their village during twilight.

Her _otherself_ and all that it entailed, was the reason her father Coblah, rarely touched her. Hugs and pats of assurance or acknowledgment of deeds well done were never to be hers. He treated Akuba almost like a stranger, casting his eyes angrily away from her when she looked to him for comfort. He would never allow her to hold, coddle or play with her younger siblings for too long.

When Coblah demanded that she be sent to live with Mawusi’s mother, Akuba stoically waited until she was loaded on a mule-driven cart before breaking down in tears. She didn’t know why she was different or what she could do to cure her “spells”. It was her patient Nana who tenderly gave her answers to her predicament and suggestions as how best to adapt to her “condition”.

That seemed like another life now. She had only met one other person like herself so far and her survival skills ensured that she never truly _needed_ camaraderie in this respect.

* * *

 

In the menacing dark, James opened his other set of eyes to everything around him. It had been quite a while since he’d tapped deeply into this part of himself. The blackness of the night became more of a muted gray. He could make out the trees and the dirt paths much easier than usual. He smelled the remnants of feast fires burned out several hours prior, the pungent dung of the cattle just beyond the village and the faint fragrance of Persian roses scattered to and fro in the bush.

Walking briskly through brush and trees and tangled vines, he was unsure if he he’d gone in the right direction until he heard Akuba and company murmuring a hundred yards ahead. They were speaking softly in Twi, so he translated as speedily as he could inside his head. Something about the search for Frema’s daughter and possibly something else traveling of its own volition. He kept a decent pace, not wanting to alert them to the fact that he was following their movements. He would ascertain the rest once they came to a standstill.

Through dense jungle they traversed, seemingly without tiring. James was invigorated, because they seemed to be going somewhere he’d never been. The deep, rich smell of Earth and tree and vine wrapped itself deliciously around him and he had the sudden urge to strip off all of his clothes.

Wasn’t this the impulse every modern, civilized man was fighting? The battle between restraint and release? Wasn’t this the tension that tethered him dangerously to Zilpha? Of course his blood surged when he watched her curtsy to Horace and the staff. Hours prior she would have wrapped her long, lithe limbs around him and cried out wantonly to the sky for mercy. Even his deviance as a Company cadet had been a defiance against any sort of order or normality.

James took quick swigs of water from the soft pouch he carried and wound his way through the jungle, noticing the elevation was gently increasing. A few moments during this trek, he could see Akuba stop, turning her head slightly to the side. _She knew he was there._ No matter now, he wasn’t turning around.

They finally came to a plateau and James realized where they were. Akuba and the men stopped on the eastern edge of the lake. Lake Bosumtwe, sacred to all Ashanti, sat below them, large and tranquil as ever. But now he noticed a faint white glow pulsing just below the surface of the waters. Addai once told him the ancestors left a trace of their coming in the deep. He wondered briefly what it could be.

“Come join us James,” she said loudly. Gameli and Kofi were shocked to see him appear from the dense brush. But Addai simply smiled as he came forth, the sweat on his skin giving him a sheen in the moonlight.

“Welcome brother,” Addai said, offering out an arm for him to grasp, as he approached.

“You thought you’d adventure without me?” James asked directly. They smiled and smirked nervously in response.

Almost five miles in diameter, Bosumtwe was an imposing site. Especially on a night like this. The greenish-blue waters shone murkily at the moment. All seemed to be still. Undisturbed.

“Can you smell it now? There must be something nearby.” Akuba muttered to all of them.

A temperate breeze blew around their heads, carrying the pungent odor closer and the men nodded silently. Addai and Gameli immediately covered their noses. James’ breathing slowed down and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck and shoulders stood at alert. A sliver of electric current sliced down his spine.


	14. The Hunter – Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for the girl continues…

Without warning, a piercing shriek broke the thick layer of stillness and all heads turned northwest towards the sound. At first, they could only see swift moving flashes of aquamarine light, but then the being stood still, coming into focus.

James made out what appeared to be a creature, in the form of a woman no less, with long and twisted turquoise locks flowing past her shoulders. Her eyes shone a pale, sickly yellow and he could make out the edges of two long silver fangs resting against her lower lips. Her voluminous breasts rose gently with each breath as a massive tail swung lazily behind her. But the most shocking sight of all was the plump, crying child she carried in one arm. A tiny little girl, no more than two years old, dress tattered and face soiled, cradled securely in her arm. The little girl’s shrieks pierced the air, morphing into incoherent sobs and calls for her family.

The beast smiled menacingly at them, fully flashing her shiny teeth. Then she released an ominous roar and darted up a nearby tree, hiding amongst the branches and the foliage.

“Akoma…” Gameli gasped.

“She’s still alive,” Addai said confounded.

“Not if we wait much longer,” Akuba interrupted, removing her robe.

“How does this work? You truly expect us to wrestle this…?” Kofi’s tone was snide and offensive.

Akuba had no time to argue with him. They would either assist her or she would handle this alone as she’d told Prah in the beginning.

“I’ll try and root her out. Follow behind with your weapons and the net. If we’re lucky, we can save Akoma as well.”

Stripped down to her incidentals, Akuba darted off ahead of them before anyone could stop her. The men removed their robes as well and pulled out their weapons Kofi and Gameli took off first, heading in the direction they last saw the creature. Addai waited as James stripped down to just his loin cloth and then they sped off to meet the others.

James didn’t mind the way sweat now formed on his brow, building up under his arm pits and dripping down his chest. But he was keenly curious about why Akuba ran off before the rest of them.

He and Addai took off at a sprint and then picked up the pace, their legs churning like pistons beneath them. James’ heart was pounding in anticipation of what would happen. The threat of danger invigorated him as he drew deep breaths into his lungs.

His eyes scanned the forest ahead of them, expecting to see Akuba heading for the tree. Instead he heard a sharp scream somewhere behind them. High-pitched and tormented, it stopped him in his tracks. It was Akuba and she was in trouble. She screamed again and James found himself, sweaty chest and heaving breath, turning around behind him to go to her.

As he took his first steps, he felt Addai’s broad hand pushing against him, preventing him from moving.

Addai looked at him sternly, his eyes wide with shock and worry. He didn’t utter a word, but simply shook his head back and forth in a silent warning.

James looked at him still not grasping “why”.

They stayed there for a few moments and Akuba continue to scream in the darkness. The sound of her agony echoed out towards them like a siren. James’ heartbeat was pounding now inside his chest and it took every ounce of his willpower to fight off his impulse to run to her and help.

He noticed her cries became broader and more guttural until he heard the unmistakable sound of a roar. He turned his head swiftly towards Addai whose eyes expressed an answer

James turned his face, shocked to see Akuba headed for the tree. Yet as his night eyes properly registered the sight, he realized that she had gained size, pushing forward, running now on all fours. Instead of hands and legs, she now had limbs with fully formed paws and claws. She’d sprouted fur, the skin of her body now covered in it and her face was still feminine yet solely feline, with bright citrine eyes, a broad nose and a mouth full of long, razor-sharp teeth.

She was no longer human but a panther, strong and sleek.

The feeling of Addai tugging at his arm brought him out of his shortened stupor. They saw Akuba dart towards the tree then proceeded to run again, as fast as their limbs would carry them. When James and Addai finally reached their destination, Kofi was kneeling on the ground, working two pieces of splint together furiously with both hands, attempting to ignite a flame. Gameli had the large heavy net slung across his broad shoulders.

“Break off a small branch from a tree and bring it to me”, Kofi instructed as James and Addai approached. Addai darted off before James could even respond. Instead James caught his breath and dared to chug water out of his water pouch in this brief respite.

It took several tries, but Kofi was finally able to ignite a flame just as Addai returned with a youngish tree limb. Addai firmly held out the branch to Kofi and he lit the end of it with his small handful of kindling. Small tufts of smoke spiraled and then spread across the tree branch, glowing a potent orange.

Once alight, the four men felt as if there was a spotlight on them, questioning their intentions, their integrity, their manhood. They collected their weapons with Gameli still holding the net over his shoulder and looked somewhat nervously, from one to the other. Whatever it was that they saw in that tree was more than the game they regularly hunted, more than the wily spirits their parents had warned them about as children, more than anything they’d ever imagined in the eeriest parts of their dreams.

This was a monster, large, heinous and terrifying. This wasn’t like hunting a lion or tracking a wildebeest, this was a creature of the netherworld. And anything bold enough to take a child and tear it apart, would have no qualms shredding a man down to his sinew and bone. If they made a misstep, not only would Safo and Frema lose their only remaining child, they might never see their loved ones or Yasi again.

Addai stepped forward, spitting his miswak onto the dense ground and spoke.

“I think it’d be best if two of us climb the trees to help her and two of us stay on the ground.”

There was an obligatory silence. Gameli thought of his new bride and the way they looked forward to dusk so they could pretend they were the only two people in the world. Kofi thought of his mother and how proud she’d been after they caught the water buffalo. So proud in fact, that she’d made him a necklace from the animal’s horns and he’d worn it every day since. Addai thought about the fact that he still hadn’t found the maiden to take his name and share his bed. He also thought about his dream to one day cross the great sea and see the rumored New World for himself. He wondered if a free and industrious man such as himself could make his way there and find his fortune.

James simply thought about the fact that he’d seen Akuba as he’d never imagined he’d see her. Dark and fearsome and ferocious. Was this the secret she‘d held so closely, turning away from him so he wouldn’t be able to read it in her eyes? Was this the source of her shame? His mind was racing with questions only she could answer. If they made it out safely and she decided to talk to him about it. No time for all of these questions. He needed to stick to the matter at hand.

“No worries gents. I’ll go up after her.” James heard himself say before he could hesitate. He saw the initial shock and then relief that rolled over each of them.

Just at that moment, Gameli notice Akuba climbing halfway up one of the nearby trees.

“She’s ready!” he whispered to them, touching the net and looking at James.

Kofi stood to his full height, the torch in his hand. He pointed it towards Akuba and she scurried higher into the long branches and leaves, just out of sight.

Addai stepped forward, concern still on his brow and offered his left hand to James. James eagerly accepted it.

He could hear Akoma crying, so he walked closer to the sound of her voice. Using the torchlight as a guide, James tucked his knife into his loin cloth, jogged to the tree and began to climb.

Kofi swept the torch back and forth in the dark as James crept carefully up the wide trunk of the tree, his feet gripping the bark for traction. Now his inner animal began to take over, the soles of his feet enveloped by an extra layer of padding and his teeth lengthened in his mouth.

He couldn’t see anything at first, but he kept climbing. The flame passed through the thick branches and leaves above him until he came face to face with Akuba, perched on a branch, one tree over. Her eyes were wide and glowing like lanterns. She sneered at him until a moment of recognition passed over her face. Then she turned her head slightly to the east, where the frazzled child was tucked into an alcove carved out of the thick bark.

Akuba leapt effortlessly to the next tree and James immediately understood. It would be best to leave Akoma in relative safety. He swung over to the tree where Akoma was curled in a ball and gently shushed her as she moaned. He felt sorry for her. She couldn’t even properly express what had to be terror. Hopefully this would all be over soon.

He spread himself out over a sturdy branch and let his eyes settle in on the terrain.

Below him, Gameli, Addai and Kofi wisely formed a circle, their backs to each other, ready for any sign of trouble. Even though he was over six feet tall with the longest of limbs, Kofi’s torchlight could only scan so far into the darkness. So little by little, they rotated their circle clockwise and anxiously waited.

James spotted a thick, gnarled tail several feet over. She was slowly climbing down in an effort to escape unseen, he guessed. As he let out a sturdy warning to the men below, the creature sprung down from a tree behind all three of them, taking a hefty swipe at Addai’s shoulder.

Kofi yelled from fright and rage, swinging his axe at the great beast’s back. She turned around to him, roaring menacingly. With one swing of her claw she swiped his unadorned chest, knocking him to the ground. The torch, fell to the forest floor, of course, burning a patch of wild grass and leaves underneath.

She lunged forward to make a meal out of Kofi when Akuba seemingly plummeted from the sky, plunging her now massive claws into the great creature’s back. The beast swung her massive body back and forth quickly, the light from the fire revealing her scaly and puckered skin.

Ducking and dodging the both of them, Addai scurried almost on all fours himself, to pull the torch up from the ground. His adrenaline was pumping too high for him to feel any pain.

“The net!” Kofi shouted.

Gameli plowed his spear into the dirt beside him and swung the net from his shoulder while Kofi ran to him to help him unravel it. Blood was seeping quickly at the wound in chest, running down his torso a ways, then coagulating in the cool night air. He took deep breaths to help calm himself against the rising pain.

The creature finally succeeded swinging Akuba off of her. Akuba tumbled a few feet away, rolling into a ball until she stopped, then twisting herself upright and back on all fours. Now it was James who came running from the darkness at her, straight away, his dagger firmly in hand.

His eyes were wild and the veins of his neck were engorged with blood. He screamed at the beast, in a mixture of Twi and a language none of them knew, his voice having grown dark and more rabid. Once he was close enough, he plunged his dagger into the center of her chest. She lunged at him, piercing his upper chest with her claws, then bent down in agony. The force from the swing of her massive tail battered his legs sending him straight to the ground on his back.

“You okay brother?” Addai asked, offering him a hand to pull him quickly to his feet.

“Just fine,” James offered, feeling his mouth go slightly dry.

They both turned their heads when they heard Akuba growling low and deep from her throat. Pacing forward she was watching the creature, who had now regained its stance, although weakened by the blow of James’ dagger.

“Help me restrain her. She’s going to get away!”

Gameli dragged the heavy rope behind him while Kofi, Addai and James came to his aid. The beast was now turned away from them all, dragging her cumbersome body towards the lake, silver blood spewing forth from her chest wound. They moved swiftly towards her, aiming to entangle it in the net.

Their eyes almost didn’t register Akuba run by them, so agile was she in her new body. She sped ahead of them and even ahead of the creature. She ran part way up a nearby tree, her claws gripping the bark with ease, bounced to the trunk of another tree , then spun her dark black body around three hundred sixty degrees, as a graceful as a dancer and pounced on the monster’s chest knocking her back down to the ground.

Gameli, Kofi and Addai threw the massive net down over her writhing body. James, who had gathered up Gameli’s spear sliced open the monster’s gut with massive strokes of anger. Akuba continued in his wake, clawing over and over into her abdomen until her blood was flowing freely and her entrails were partially lying in a heap on the fertile ground.

The creature cried out, its body jerking in spasms in the darkness until it finally gave up the ghost.

The men now let themselves heave audibly. Their labored breaths full of relief. James screamed to the heavens and Akuba roared into the darkness several times.

It was over. At least this was over. And they could triumphantly bring Akoma home for good.


	15. On the Docks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A steamy meeting and a confession

She heard her husband bragging about his visit to her brother’s shipping offices by the docks of the Thames. He told her he visited James just to set the record straight. Now it wouldn’t matter how much James pined for her at violin recitals or elegant parties to which they’d all been invited. Zilpha was his wife, his lover, his property. And James could only watch from afar and imagine no, despair, at how twisted and delicious their lovemaking would be.

 

She laughed at Thorne. In front of his face and behind his back. For all his cravings toward societal standing, he was such an awkward, clumsy bore of a man. She actually felt sorry for him. He knew nothing about their moment in the church and the eddy James released from her loins. He knew nothing about her other secret; the one binding James to her forever. And she was ever so grateful. For if he did, there would be more than murderous fucking on his agenda.

 

Didn’t he know she yielded to him to settle an account for her own soul? Couldn’t he feel her slipping away every time he came to her room and thrust himself inside her? Didn’t he suspect that her blood poured forth every month, like clockwork, because she drank the tea that blocked his seed from sprouting inside her?

 

She made herself captive to him. He had conquered nothing. She was merely on loan until she saw fit to free herself from the entire affair.

 

_Women, diminished throughout society._ She scoffed at how meek, humble and dumb they all had to be; stroking the egos of their counterparts. Dimming the most radiant pieces of their minds and souls.

 

* * *

 

 

One morning, she had a thought. An idea to pay James a visit. Nothing was ever truly a surprise to him. She could feel his mind peering into hers, willing herself to just break free. The truth is she wanted to see him again. No, needed to. She needed to look at him and drink him in and savor one last moment with him in their own private reverie.

 

It made her chest ache to imagine them somewhere in the New World living on a large, lush tract of land surrounded by a river with an ominous wilderness just beyond. In her dream, James was a hunter and craftsman, catching their food and selling skins and metal weapons he crafted in his own smithy shop. She was a woman of Nature, learning the herbs of the wood and how to grind, mix and fashion them into healing salves and tinctures, speaking to the deer and foxes and eagles of the forest to learn of impending rains or intruders. In their wooden house, they would laugh and sing, whispering secrets softly in the misty mornings after hungrily wandering over every inch of each other’s bodies. She would bear him children, a bevy of them. And he would love them all, guiding them and teaching them, telling them stories by a roaring fire and hugging them tightly. If only…

 

* * *

 

She dressed herself in a dark blue skirt and pale rose-colored top; one that would command every man’s attention if a few shades brighter. Today however, she wanted to blend in with others. Ladies were known to travel alone throughout London during the day, so for all anyone knew, she could be handling her father’s remaining affairs or opening communications with her estranged brother, having not seen or heard from him in ten years.

 

She ate her breakfast daintily, breaking off bits of toast and dipping them into the small tin of jam. Slowly sipping her coffee, before taking another small portion of porridge. When she peeled off a plump slice of orange, she bit into it slowly, letting the juices burst inside her mouth. This was what she needed in her life. Flavorful moments, pungent, rich and deep. Meanwhile, Thorne greedily dug into his scrambled eggs, toast, bangers and mash. Blessedly unaware. His appetite for food was as ferocious as his desire for her. He seemed to devour the morsels without effort, only touching his large mug of coffee once most of his food was sliding into the pit of his stomach.

 

She waited for him to leave for the days’ affairs. Then she wrote letters at her desk to a couple of the women she’d befriended at their social club. After that she decided to sew a few decorative pieces in the sitting room. When she was satisfied that enough time had passed, she had her servant call a carriage and headed for the piers.

 

* * *

 

 

Zilpha only visited these offices a handful of times when Horace was still alive. Long before the madness circled him like currents of a tropical storm, slowly peeling him from reality. The area had been full of warehouses, storage lots and quick-and-dirty taverns serving beer, bread and cheese to hungry shoremen. It was almost the same now, except that there were whorehouses scattered between the work offices, like the one James occupied.

 

Her dreams of travel and adventure, easy and free stood in stark contrast to the grease and grime of the docks. So much wet dirt clinging to rubbery boots, black pitch slathered on the thick wooden slats of ships and a general filth clinging to the faces and limbs of those moving goods to and fro.

 

Her clothes were plain enough that some of the ruffians called out to her as she walked from her carriage to the offices. She smiled to herself as the wind whipped against her coat and he r face. If forced to be a whore, she’d require a clean room with a bed. No rutting out in the elements. She only held that intoxicating fervor for one.

 

When she arrived at his offices, she knocked demurely on the large wooden doors. The smell of a blacksmith’s fire reached her nose from a close distance. She could hear the clamoring of men repairing ships and unloading heavy crates.

 

James open the door abruptly, seeming disturbed.

 

“What?”

 

He wore a rich earthy cologne, spiked with sandalwood. She breathed it in and felt a spark of electricity jolt inside of her.

 

“May I have a moment of your time sir?” she asked sweetly. Formality masking intent.

 

“I have a few hours before I meet with my men across town.” Although he sounded annoyed, he was still staring at her, a tiny ember lighting up in his amber eyes. The left corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly and she knew she’d made the right decision.

 

“May I come in?”

 

He opened the door wider to allow her entry, looking to and fro outside. Then he slammed the door and shut it behind her.

 

“You may want to lock that.” She removed her coat placing it on one of the many hooks protruding from the wall and walked over to his desk.

 

He didn’t question her. He simply locked the door, coming to stand right behind her. He wasn’t touching her and yet he was close. Close enough that she could feel heat coursing from his skin and the warmth of his breath on her neck.

 

James knew this was a game, knew she’d used every ounce of strength to find her way back to him. It touched him deeply. He regretted the years of distance between them. He had so much to explain to her. But he couldn’t give in so easily. He wanted to tease this out of her. Wanted to draw out her desire like a delicate strand of silk, light and luscious.

 

“You said you never wanted to see me again. Yet here you are. What, may I ask, brings you to my office?”

 

His voice was mellifluous and round, filling the space. The tiny hairs on Zilpha’s neck stood on end reaching towards him.

 

She turned around to face him, raising her dark eyes towards his, feeling defiant and intoxicated by the sight of him. She noticed the jagged scar beneath his left eye and raised her hand up to run a smooth, delicate finger along the raised skin there. He raised an eyebrow, but made no move towards her.

 

“We still have business to attend to by my accounts. Once that’s concluded, I’ll leave you be. Don’t worry.”

 

James decided to be practical in that moment. He wanted her just as much as he knew she wanted him. But there was time. Plenty of it.

 

He turned on his heels, going back behind the desk to a wood shelf housing a few dishes and silverware.

 

“Would you like a coffee?” he asked sincerely.

 

His rich, earthy fragrance wafted sumptuously in the air and for just a moment Zilpha was transported back to their clearing beyond the woods. The sharp aroma of grass came to her instantly and she wanted to feel it beneath her feet, brushing against her delicate skin.

 

“I’ve had breakfast and a decent amount of coffee already. I appreciate your hospitality in any case.”

 

_Hmmm. The first meal of the day. Usually preceded by morning relations and a generous amount of bathing. James was stirring at the thought of Zilpha, in her porcelain tub no doubt, gently scrubbing her limbs, the large washcloth stimulating the blood to come just beneath the surface of her skin, turning it a rosy pink. First, she would clean her face, then her neck, her arms, then her torso down to her waist, and then she’d slide the soapy cloth down gently into the crevice between her legs._

 

She turned her back to him, so he couldn’t see her unbuttoning her blouse. Smirking at her eagerness. In planning this little tête-a-tête, she completely skipped over the usual barrage of undergarments. Today she simply wore a camisole atop her pink lace bra. She slid the straps of her camisole and bra down simultaneously, shivering a bit as the air hit her skin.

 

“And this business you refer to?” James walked to the front side of the desk, leaning comfortably against it, standing a decent distance away from her.

 

Zilpha turned around to face him and his eyes immediately focused on her naked breasts. They were large enough, round and fleshy, the sight of her nipples making his mouth water.

 

She stepped towards him, positioning herself between his firm muscular thighs and James grunted, rubbing his hand over his moustache and down his beard. In truth, he was still in pursuit of her. Still the one on the hunt, and yet this measure of forwardness, of blatant desire, warmed his loins and tugged at his heart. His wanton, willful Zilpha was still alive. Still inside her, ready to be coaxed from her long slumber.

 

* * *

 

 

The air caused her nipples to stiffen and James could no longer help himself. He reached forward, taking a tender rosy bud between his forefinger and his thumb, twisting it gently back and forth as Zilpha softly sighed, sounding like a tender kitten.

 

“You’ve been handling Father’s affairs, yes?”

 

She placed one hand firmly on his crotch, noting that he was partially at attention. It wouldn’t take long for his soldier to become fully alert.

 

“Of course.”

 

Now James pulled her even closer to him and bit the silky flesh at her neck.

 

It didn’t matter that there was cloth between her hand and his cock. She rubbed up and down along his shaft and he let the delicious sensation wash over him. His member stiffened immediately and then began to lengthen under her touch, a bundle of sensitive nerves spiking at the bulbous head.

 

“Ahhh….,” Zilpha sighed, letting her head fall back just a bit. His lips were warm and soft, and he drew her flesh into his mouth as her pulse quickened.

 

“Then you know about Father’s son? That he must be cared for?”

 

James grunted and gave a throaty “Yes. Of course.”

 

He wanted to soothe her with his fingers, wandering tongue and cock. He wanted to let his body tell her all the ways he missed her while wandering the jungles in Africa. Wanted to show her how much she still held his heart.

 

She lifted her head and dared to speak.

 

“You gave me something a few weeks ago. So very precious and rare.”

 

_Zilpha had stifled a sharp squeal when she opened an ivory envelope, pulling out his letter and a large misshapen stone fell into her hand. Clearer than glass, catching the sunbeam from her window pane and sparkling against her hand. She readily pushed it deep inside the drawer in the corner of her sitting room. Collateral. Capital. Freedom, the moment she chose to take flight._

 

“I feel it only kind to return the favor.”

 

James felt the way her body lengthened. The way her muscles tensed against him ever so slightly. Felt the corridor of her mind avail itself fully to him. Without moving her lips she continued to speak.

 

_“He’s ours James. That beautiful, dark-haired boy is your son. I wanted to tell you, all this time. But I couldn’t find the words.”_

 

James heard her clearly, felt her shiver and his lips continued to caress her. He made a soft, wet trail of kisses from her neck to her cheek and then placed his lips firmly on hers, seeking warmth and connection, as his tongue poked gently into her willing mouth. She accepted him readily, intertwining her own tongue with his in a slow, sinewy dance. He now had both his hands on her breasts and she felt wetness forming at her sensuous core.

 

James raised his head taking hers in his large, firm hands.

 

_“I know my love. I know. You were hidden from me for so long.”_

 

Zilpha let the tears pooling at the edges of her eyes fall freely. She wanted to tell James how isolated she’d felt. How frightened she’d been when her blood ceased to flow and her belly began to swell. How she carried him full-term into an unseasonably stifling summer, finally pushing him into the world through torment and struggle.

 

She hated Horace when he forced her to give him away, to let others care for and raise him. _‘For the sake of your prospects. For the sake of your future.’_ She would have given anything to have James there just to hold her in his arms. To share in the joy of what they’d made together.

 

It pained him to see her tears, knowing this would leave a cloud of despair over her for the rest of her days. By the time he acquired second sight, so many years had passed. He’d lived and died only to rise again, but it had cost him time with her. Cost him moments when he could have shared her pain and possibly alleviated her grief.

 

She. She was here. Standing right in front of him. Soft and willing and vulnerable. He couldn’t have been more intoxicated.

 

* * *

 

 

Zilpha stepped away from James, unhooking her skirt. His cock jolted forward inside his breeches once he realized she had on garters and stockings with not a stitch of any other undergarments covering her flesh. Of course, preferred her completely au naturel, but this daring display would suffice.

 

James moved to pull her blouse, camisole and bra over her head. “Give me those,” he commanded, taking all of her clothes and placing them on a nearby chair.

 

He walked back over to her eyeing her up and down, the curves of her waist and her hips spiking his hunger.

 

“It looks like your little man wants to be free,” she whispered.

 

“Why don’t you let me tend to him?” she teased.

 

Zilpha boldly unbuttoned his breeches and smiled at the sight of his hardened member as it pointed directly at her, the cause for its commotion, and the answer to its angst.

 

“Today is no day for games. And there’s nothing little about him, my love.”

 

She smiled as she began to sink down, but James shook his head “No” and swiftly pulled her up. He wouldn’t have her kneeling on the dirty floor of the Delaney Company offices.

 

He gathered her up in his arms, scooping her over his broad shoulder with one hand then grabbing a sturdy chair in another. He walked over to a large mahogany desk full of large maps, over on the far wall, gently placing her down in the chair and then abruptly sweeping the maps off of the desk. Neither of them bothered to look at the heavy rolls of paper falling haphazardly onto the floor.

 

Leaning against the desk, he finished unbuttoning his breeches, letting them fall down to his calves and sat just at the edge as Zilpha happily scooted forward. She came at him eagerly taking his engorged penis in her hand, pushing at him until he sat securely on the desk top, legs spread apart.

 

She lowered herself down until her face was hovering over his stomach. James felt gentle bites at his navel, while his dick rubbed gently against her throat. Having her this close to him again, in _this_ way made a feverish heat rise in his chest. He forced his quickening breaths to slow, willed himself to last, so he didn’t explode when she finally touched him.

 

Zilpha moved further down to the wiry hairs, just above his sex and inhaled. His scent was rich and musky, and she very much regretted missing his transformation into the chiseled man now beneath her. She placed her hands firmly on the dark black bands encircling his thighs and gently took the head of his penis betwixt her lips.

 

James let out an involuntary moan, his dick leaking slightly into her mouth.

 

Zilpha smiled up at him as she swirled the drops of liquid around on her tongue and swallowed. And then she went to work. Tickling and teasing him, sucking at his cock and then releasing it from her mouth with a loud pop.

 

James ran his hands through the thick strands of her hair, letting the scent of lavender waft up to soothe him.

 

Zilpha took him back into her mouth, pulling him all the way down to the back her throat, before releasing him a bit so she could control her suction against his eager flesh.

 

“Nnnghhhnn yes. Fuck. Yes!” James was growling from deep within and couldn’t help it when his hips began to move, and he found himself pushing his dick into the warmth of her mouth.

 

Zilpha was humming around him and his body began to tense. He felt the first prickly spikes of sensation swirling at the base of his spine. She’d found a nice rhythm against his gentle thrusts and took a tender moment to release him again and gently take one of his balls into her mouth.

 

James wanted to continue. He really did. He wanted to let her suck him down until his seed swam ruggedly down her throat. But not here. Not now. There would plenty of time for them to reconnect in every way possible.

 

She reached for him again and he pushed her away. Zilpha looked at him in confusion. He wanted to drown in her desire. But more than that he wanted to touch her, taste her, provide her a release.

 

Quickly rising from the desk, he scooped her up again in his arms and lay her out flat against the sturdy wooden top. He hovered over her, kissing her pointedly on the mouth, waiting until she opened a bit wider before letting his curious tongue inside. He curled his tongue around hers, running his hands down her slender throat and then flicking his fingers against a tender nipple.

 

Feeling his cock pulsing against her stomach, Zilpha slowly opened her legs and raised them, wanting to feel James inside of her.

 

“Please,” she moaned wantonly.

 

He let his dick rub against her sodden flesh, grunting as she began to move her hips against him. The soft sound of her mewing coupled with his rigid dick sent him right to the edge. If he took her now, there was no way he’d last for long.

 

He kissed between her breasts, then down her abdomen to her stomach. He sat down firmly in the chair, scooching forward and separating her long slender legs. Then he leaned his head forward towards her sex and savored a taste of her essence with a smooth swipe of his tongue.

 

Zilpha cried out as her back arched away from the desk top, a stream of pleasure surging all along her spine. Her hands instinctually began to reach for something, anything to grab onto and with nothing at her sides, she reached to down to tug at James’ head as he came at her again, running his tongue flat against her delicate pleasure point.

 

He let his lips wrap around her clit, sucking at it steadily, savoring her tangy flavor.

 

Zilpha tried to swallow her sound and hold it in, but the sensation of him was too much. She yelped loudly, letting herself pant quickly as he worked her over.

 

James loved the taste of her, loved the sounds of her arousal, loved the way she was free with him.

 

He lapped at her pussy again and again, like a thirsty man taking that first gulp of water. He pushed his eager tongue inside of her, bringing his fingers up to rub her clit round and round, back and forth. Zilpha was moving her head from side to side, pushing her pussy against his mouth, greedy for everything he could give.

 

James backed off just a bit, licking at her lightly, daring her to open her mind to him once again.

 

_“Once I came into the world again, I began to see. Everything.”_

 

He kissed her thighs on each side, looking up at her as she continued to writhe against him.

 

_“Forgive me, for not being here to protect you.”_

 

He caressed her thighs, running his hands round to feel the fullness of her bum, moving his hands in slow circles beneath her, letting her scent intoxicate him completely.

 

Zilpha whimpered, unable to hold back the tears springing quickly from her eyes. As he was reaching for her, she reached back out to him, feeling the years of their separation melt away just as snow succumbs to impending sunshine.

 

_“I’ve waited in the darkness for so long, for something. And it’s this. To have you here, with me, even if just for a stolen moment my love.”_

 

James took one of her delicate hands and pressed his lips to her palm, kissing the skin there over and over.

 

_“I promise to care for our son with everything I have. Even my own life.”_

 

He wanted to pay penance, make things right for her and for all of them. He needed space and time to help them find a new life away from this madness. His chest ached with his want, with his need. It wasn’t always easy for him to form the words. For now, he would pour himself into her, hoping she could feel his deepest intentions.

 

Zilpha caressed his head, running her hand down the side of his face. Teasing his lips with her limber fingers. She pushed two fingers inside his mouth, then brought them to her own mouth to take a taste of herself.

 

As if given a signal, James ground his hips into the chair, taking himself in one hand and moving his mouth back to Zilpha’s sex. He came at her aggressively, using his tongue and the suction of his lips to devour her tender folds. Licking and sucking at her, letting her sweet juices seep into his mouth. His cock was now leaking freely again, so he let the pre-cum land on his fingers, then moved his hand up and down his shaft, lubricating his entire length.

 

Zilpha could feel the tingling in her spine beginning to move out towards her abdomen, her legs and her toes. She reached back to grab James’ head, holding it in place for a time as he greedily sucked at her flesh.

 

James felt the rise of his own release as well. His legs began to twitch and his balls began to tingle. At the sound of Zilpha’s moans, he slipped two fingers inside her, alternating their movements with the flicking of his tongue. Zilpha moved her hips against him brazenly, a tight cord of energy surging through her until the throbbing sensations were too much for her to contain and she clamped down around James’ fingers while shouting out from her core. All that she knew were his hands and his mouth and a piercing white light that temporarily blinded her, causing her limbs to quiver.

 

James’ mouth rode out her orgasm with her, fusing himself to her nether region, relishing in her release. He was tugging at his dick earnestly now and it was just a few moments after her orgasm that his came like the crest of a mighty wave. His deep voice bellowed out in the room as he spilled copious amounts of cum on the floor. The stream of semen seemed to pour from his body until finally he was spent.

 

He rested his head against her lower abdomen and rested. Both of them taking jagged breaths until they finally came down from their high. Zilpha’s hair was now sloppily strung around her head and James had made a mess on the floor, but neither of them cared. They stayed that way for several minutes, gently breathing and holding on to one another.

 

Finally, James got up to fill a bowl of water at the large sink behind his desk. He grabbed a couple of clean cloths and brought them over to Zilpha so she could clean herself up before she put on her clothes again. They moved in silence, wiping up the mess and tucking themselves back into their clothes as neatly as possible. James put on his overcoat and went outside to call her a carriage and she waited patiently until she heard the steady clicking of horse hoofs along the brick pathway. James stepped back inside, and she caressed his face with her hand, kissing him gently on the lips. He stayed there just a moment too long. Then he watched her walk away.


End file.
